


Sunlight

by witchywho (polyxena_chatoyant)



Series: Sunlight Saga [1]
Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, OC is bisexual, OC is not me entirely, Other, Reincarnation, Self-Insert Week 2016, Twin!fic, also on FFN, au-ish, fight me, updates Wednesday and Friday 10AM PST-USA time, yeah it's an SI-OC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 38,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6634705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polyxena_chatoyant/pseuds/witchywho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She died. She was born. Life goes on it's familiar way, shitting on you at every turn. Normal. And then vampires showed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Self-Insert Week 2k16. Updates Wednesday and Friday, 10AM PST-USA time. I did not steal this, I am the original author, also on FFN. 
> 
> FFN Author Note: Lmao it’s been way too long since I’ve been on this site as an author. I’m usually on AO3 or tumblr, and people still whine that I deleted all my stories off my old account, TNM-Writer, but I’m back. For a classic Twilight OC-insert, lol. Please enjoy.

Molly’s death was a simple one, one that might even be seen as a habit in her family. Many had died from car crashes, and her own parents had problems with hitting deer at night. It was almost poetic, though, that on one of the first few nights out in her car, a simple 2010 Mazda3 her father bought off one of his work buddies, that she would not pay attention to the light at the intersection.

It had been raining that night, and Molly had turned up her radio when Imagine Dragons came on, singing along as she drove. So used to never paying attention to the light, distracted by her music and swaying to it, she hadn’t seen what was clearly a red light. So she sped past the stopping line.

The semi-truck’s front lights and brights almost blinded her, and the familiar roaring of the engine drowned out her music. Molly felt a flash of panic, catching site of the grill - so similar to the one she had stepped in front of willingly in a suicide attempt last year - but didn’t have a single moment to give in to the flashback before she black out on impact. When she blearily came to, the world was turning, tires were screeching, and Imagine Dragons played through it all.

_ All I believe, is it a dream, that comes crashing down on me… _

Molly’s glasses had flown off her face during the crash, and as the car slowly rolled to a stop upside down, the only thing keeping her hanging in her seat was the seat belt. She couldn’t move her head, her neck hurt too much. She’d been hit on her side of the car, meaning glass had spewn all over her, her head had slammed into the grill of a semi for the second time in her short life, and she could feel blood dripping down her head.

Just like last time, she felt the odd mixture of hot and cold of her body, the lack of energy, the pull to keep her eyes shut. It was so much stronger this time, and the sound of sirens in the distance were uniform enough to make a half-hearted lullaby.

_ I wanna believe…  _

She’d close her eyes, but only for a moment… Just a moment…

 

* * *

 

She became aware of herself very slowly, as if sifting through jello or trying to wake up from a lucid dream. It was a struggle to keep her eyes open, to keep her mind aware of what was happening. She faded in and out of consciousness, or was a it sleep? An indeterminate amount of time passed before she could keep her eyes open long enough and assess the situation.

Molly Kirkpatrick was dead. Had died? Either way, the night in her car after being slammed by a semi was the last one she had spent alive in that existence. That much she could deduce from realizing that she was now a baby, most likely having been reborn.

The idea of death wasn’t as scary as it had been to her younger self. It hadn’t been since early elementary, because some part of her always insisted that she was going to die before she reached her twenties, be it by her own hand or another’s. And when life became so tedious and exhausting, emotionally and mentally, that she gave in and went to find her eternal rest - well, she had given the afterlife quite a bit of thought. After all, if she was walking to her death willingly, she should be prepared for the consequences. 

Reincarnation  _ had _ been one of those options, but all had been rendered obsolete when she survived and went into a three-month-long hospital stay and started her meds. But she had been prepared, and that never went away, the knowledge that she might be without everything that was familiar to her in a split second. She just always thought it would be illness or old age after finding suicide to be distasteful.

So putting the name Molly behind her was easy. She listened carefully and closely, trying to find out what her new name was. She was very young in this new life, probably a newborn seeing as her hearing was the only part of her that was capable of doing what she wanted it to do.

Four names became options; Charlie, Renée, Clara, and Bella. These options, after many days, narrowed down to Clara and Bella, seeing as Charlie and Renée seemed to be her new dad and mom. She was also a twin, which was new but not disliked. She eventually figured out that her name was Clara and that her twin sister was named Bella. They were pretty names, and Clara appreciated not being named Sunshine or Rainbow.

Being a baby, though, was just a whole lot of sleeping, eating, and pooping. She was barely aware for any of it, but on her more alert days she appreciated the near-constant rain, the peacefulness of her sister’s soft breathing, her mother’s laughter, and her father’s baritone voice murmuring jokes and puns into her baby ears.

It was lovely and Clara never wanted it to end, these halcyon days. 

A wise person once said that all good things must come to an end, though.

The end of Clara’s halcyon days came in December, three months into her new life, preceded by weeks of her parents being stressed and anxious for entirely different reasons. Charlie’s parents were ill, causing him to spend more time trying to help them and keep them stable. Renée was experiencing the baby blues coupled with seasonal depression. Things weren’t going right. Bella cried a lot.

And then Renée left, taking Bella and Clara with her, abandoning Charlie to save herself.

Clara tried to think about it rationally, and she could forgive Renée partially because of her reasons; Renée had a right to focus on herself and making sure that  _ she _ was doing good. It wouldn’t bode well to have a mother succumbing to the sweet call of death so soon into her second life. But Clara missed her father, missed the rain and the cloudy skies, missed the green, green trees, missed the peacefulness of her father’s home. And she held a sliver of resentment in her for being drug away in her helpless state.

But God, she had to try and be positive. One thing she had learned about herself that if she didn’t stay motivated she began to slip downhill and she couldn’t afford such.

Renée took them to California, to their Grandmother Marie Higginbotham, who got all the divorce papers ready and mailed them to Charlie. They settled into Grandma Marie’s home and Renée enrolled in College to get a teaching degree. Life continued on in the sweltering sun.

 

* * *

 

When Clara and Bella turned five they were enrolled in Kindergarten. Clara hated and loved it at the same time, surrounded by snot-nosed brats who didn’t understand how to spell dog, but the coursework was so easy that she breezed through it all and had free time to spare. She spent most of it badgering Renée and Marie for a puppy.

When it was announced that Renée would be moving to Phoenix, Arizona, Clara begged for three days and was finally granted her wish. When they moved into their new home, the first thing they would do would be to get a puppy. The move itself was easy, Clara spent most of the time figuring out what she was going to name the puppy.

Chevy, as she named him, was an Australian Shepherd with a full tail and quite the excitable puppy. He raced around the new house barking incessantly and wanting to play, even as Renée carried in moving boxes. He was even able to get laughter out of Bella, which Clara thought was a miracle for her all-too-serious sister.

We started Elementary school this year, which was so very irritating yet calm. Or, as calm as children trapped in a prison-like building could be. Somehow, Clara had established a reputation for being kind and outgoing, always being able to figure out what someone was having trouble with in class and willing to help. On the other hand, Bella had established her reputation as a clumsy Ice Queen; Clara’s sister still blushed bright red at the mention, wondering out loud what she’d done to deserve this. 

The kids who met them, at first, liked to point out the differences between the two of them. Bella had dark brown hair, Clara had brown with sun-caused red highlights; Bella was pale from staying inside and reading, Clara was pale but with sun-caused freckles and constant sunburns; Bella had scrapes and bruises from tripping, Clara had scrapes and bruises from playing outside. 

When they got to know the twins, however, they pointed out the similarities. Bella and Clara both liked to read; they both liked classical music; they were both very much mature and too smart for their age; both had chocolate brown eyes; they could both trip over nothing.

Things were good. School passed and summer came. Bella and Clara went to spend a month with Charlie during the summer.

The moment Clara had stepped out of Charlie’s cruiser and onto the gravel driveway of her home from so long ago, rain sprinkling the morning air, surrounded by  _ green _ and  _ peacefulness _ … She felt like she had taken a drink of water after a day in the desert. She loved Forks with all her heart, like Charlie, but Bella instantly hated it. She longed for the sunny, dry air of Phoenix, the asphalt and rattlesnakes, and hated the humidity and constant wetness of Forks.

Charlie took them fishing, which neither girl had real patience for, and introduced them to Billy Black’s kids out in La Push. Rebecca, Rachel, and Jacob were sweet kids, all chubby cheeks, high cheek bones, brown skin, and inky black hair. Bella tended to ignore them, but Clara threw herself into playing with the three of them, despite the age differences. 

Clara liked to stay up late, listening to classical music and the rain, peering out her window and falling asleep to the sounds. She never wanted to leave Forks again, it was just like it had been when she was a child. However, time continues on, and the month ended with Charlie driving them to the airport and escorting them to the plane, where the flight attendant would take charge of them.

Teary-eyed, Clara clung tightly to Charlie’s soft, pudgy body, breathing in the smell of his soap and detergent, and told her father she loved him. That he should call every week. That she couldn’t wait until next summer. 

Bella gave Charlie and hug. They got on the plane.

Phoenix waited for them, and the moment they stepped off the plane, Clara tucked her nose into her hair and tried to remember the green and the rain.

 

* * *

 

They were ten when Bella and Chevy were hit by a car. Chevy had raced out into the road, trying to ‘herd’ Bella towards the house from where she was drawing with chalk on the asphalt, but neither were quick enough to move.

Clara arrived home thirty minutes later to watch the ambulance leave and hug her crying mother.

Chevy died.

Bella was in a coma. 

Sitting in a white room, on a plastic chair, next to her sister as her mother cried on the phone with Charlie, Clara felt herself go numb. Bella was too pale, she thought, nearly blending in with the sheets. Her hair was pulled into a bun so as to not get tangled, and there were many wires and even a breathing tube.

“Wake up, dummy,” Clara whispered. 

She had not had siblings last time. She had gotten used to the constant, never-changing presence of Bella Swan. To see her, lying in bed, not fidgeting and not blushing but not asleep… It hurt her. Something wasn’t  _ right _ about this. 

Was she supposed to exist? Had the reincarnation been a botched attempt? Could Bella had lived a life without a twin who would insist on a dog and sidewalk chalk? Would Bella have been in the street for the car to hit, then?

Clara couldn’t find an answer, and she blamed herself. No one knew, she couldn’t very well say ‘oh, yeah, I’m not supposed to exist in this life, so Bella being in a coma is my fault.’

She and Renée visited Bella every day. Charlie came down to Phoenix, despite the fact that he sunny, dry places weren’t for him. For months, this continued on as they visited daily. It slowly trickled down to weekly… And by the time Clara was twelve, it was tri-weekly.

Life goes on. And while Clara couldn’t forgive herself, she put it behind her and waited for Bella to wake up.

 

* * *

__

When Clara was fifteen, Renée met Phil Dwyer and began dating again. Clara missed most of the beginning of their romance, as she’d been spending her first summer month in Forks per usual and hanging out with 12-year-old Jacob. The twins had gone on a school-sponsored trip to Hawaii, so Clara and Jacob stuck close together, along with his friends.

She heard rumors of a new family that had moved into the old mansion out in the forest area, but since she spent most of her time in La Push or on the lake with Charlie, she didn’t ever catch a glimpse of these illusive Cullens. She’d taken to writing in a journal, as if writing letters to Bella, so she mentioned them and what little she knew.

This summer was also the first time Clara had a relationship, for only a few short whirl-wind weeks with a girl named Angela Weber. They had most of their dates in Port Angeles, and though Clara had a lot of fun spending time with her, cuddling, and making out, she respected Angela enough to not fight with her when she figured out that she wasn’t attracted to girls in the slightest. Clara had a vague feeling it had something to do with her pastor father, but didn’t mention it.

Later in the summer, back in Phoenix, she met Allen Knight, a Junior to her Sophomore. They dated all to April, and though the good times were good, the bad times were  _ bad _ . Eventually, she broke up with him for her own good and mourned the relationship for all of two weeks. 

The summer before her Junior year in high school, the first month she spent in Forks like usual, she heard from Jacob and the twins (who were only there for the first two days before heading out to summer camp) that there was apparently a gang forming in La Push. And the people who had formed it were all around their age but were scary enough that Jacob theorized that they were taking steroids. Clara made sure to stay away from them, whenever they might run into them at First Beach. 

Renée and Phil married late into the year, on a beach in Mexico. Clara was the Maid of Honor, and she found the ceremony beautiful. She even got teary-eyed. Phil was good for Renée, the perfect mixture of an adventurer and practical, which meant that Clara no longer had to worry about what was happening with the bills and such. 

He moved in soon after, but his Minor League Baseball team was getting ready to go on tour. Renée, Clara knew, felt a desperate need to travel with Phil, but the only reason she stayed behind was for Bella and Clara. Clara wanted Renée to be happy, she wanted to be happy herself, and so she proposed what she thought was the Most Amazing Idea.

“Mom, what if I went to stay with Charlie until I graduate?”


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN Author Note: Welcome back, mes amies. I legit just published the prologue, after having trouble switching between phone and laptop, so here we are. Now, last time, Bella was in a coma, Renée and Phil were married, and Clara suggested she move in with Charlie. This chapter begins where Twilight’s chapter “First Sight” began. Here we go, into the trash can.

The ride to the airport was filled with Renée and Clara talking over what she had packed, if she had anything, when they would email each other, and if Clara was  _ sure  _ about moving. Truth be told, this was a life-long dream of Clara. Her last life had been in the midwest, with its shitty and unconventional weather, Phoenix was nice but Clara hated the heat, and so Forks was a dream come true. Renée’s continued assurances to herself that Clara actually wanted to go didn’t bother her.

Clara was dressed for Forks weather already, black skinny jeans and a thick-knit grey sweater, her feet clad in waterproof black boots. Her carry-on item was her rain coat.

When they arrived in the airport, Renée insisted on going with Clara up to the terminal. She hugged Clara tightly, who responded in kind. Maybe Renée wasn’t the best mother, but Clara had grown to love her with all her heart. The teenager only wished that that Bella were here to go with her, despite how much Clara knew her sister had hated Forks. 

“Tell Charlie I said hi.”

“I will. Tell Bella and Phil I said good bye.”

“Of course,” Renée’s voice got a bit choked at the mention of the comatose teen. “I’ll see you soon. You can come home whenever you want - I’ll come back as soon as you need me.”

Clara felt her throat tighten. Her mother was one of the most self-sacrificing people she knew, and Clara knew that Renée loved her with all her heart; not even Charlie had been able to keep the free-spirited Renée tied down.

“No worries, mom,” Clara whispered, pulling back to smile at the woman. They had similar facial structures that they almost looked like sisters. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I love Forks.”

She laughed, blue eyes crinkling. “And I will never understand how. You’re so much like Charlie.” Renée cupped Clara’s cheek with her hand, smiling so tenderly at Clara that she almost felt uncomfortable at the strength of that love in her eyes. “I love you, Clara. Stay safe.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” Clara said it like she was swearing an oath. “See ya.”

“See ya,” Renée gave her one-last hug before Clara was running up the terminal to find her seat on the plane. 

The plan was crowded, like any plane, and Clara ended up sitting next to an elderly lesbian couple, who were very sweet and gave Clara all of their peanuts. The four hours passed quickly as she laughed and talked with the two, children screaming in the background and the sound of a plane engine rumbling the entire time. 

When she landed in Seattle, Joyce and Betty, the couple, gave her hugs and sweets before toddling on their way. Clara boarded a much smaller plane with scarily-quiet passengers. Clara ended up taking her journal out of her jacket pocket and writing to Bella. 

 

_ January 17th, 2005 _

_ Bella, _

_ Today is the day. I’m going to Forks. You wouldn’t believe the couple I met on the plan to Seattle, they were so funny and wrinkly that I wanted to hug them. Which I did, but later. You would have loved them if you actually got up the nerve to speak to them. _

_ I miss you. Per usual. Renée does as well, and she’s supposed to tell you ‘good bye’ for me. I don’t know if you’re going to stay in Phoenix General or transfer to wherever and Renée and Phil settle down. _

_ Transferring to Forks will certainly be...interesting. I’ll get to see Angela again, though! I wonder if she’s found a boyfriend. She’s so sweet she deserves some lovin’. I can’t wait to see Jacob again, either, but that gang in La Push scares the shit out of me… _

_ Either way, I can’t wait for the plane to land.  _

_ Wish you were here, _

_ Clara _

 

* * *

 

When the plane landed in Port Angeles, the sky was cloudy and rain pounded down onto the Earth. Clara stepped outside the airport, hood up on her raincoat, and closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. She could  _ smell _ the rain. She could also smell the pollution and car exhaustion, but that was something she tried to ignore.

“Clara-bear!” a deep voice called out, making Clara’s eyes snap open. Charlie was standing next to his cruiser, in uniform, and a big grin on his face.

“Dad!” Clara laughed, running up and slamming into him with a hug. Charlie was as warm and squishy as he had been last summer, smelling of rain and fish and deodorant. 

“It’s good to see you, hun,” Charlie murmured, and quickly pulled back. Unlike Renée and Clara, Charlie wasn’t as touchy-feely, more awkward. “Is your hair longer?”

It was, but Clara grinned. “Maybe.”

“Jeez, are you ever going to cut it?” he began helping her put her bags into the cruiser’s trunk. 

“Never,” Clara declared. She loved the feeling of her hair brushing down her back and brushing her spine. Currently it was just above the small of her back. “I’m aiming to be Rapunzel.”

He laughed and the two climbed into the car. The ride to Charlie’s house in Forks was long and dark, but they had fun. Charlie wasn’t very talkative, but Clara was easily able to fill up the silence with talk about how Phoenix was.

And then Charlie dropped a bomb.

“I found a good car for you, really cheap,” he said with a grin.

Clara gasped. “You didn’t! Oh my gosh, dad, thank you so much! What kind?”

“It’s a truck,” he said, and then his grin softened a bit. “A Chevy.”

The pang in my heart reminded me of the beloved pet that had tried to save Bella. I gave him a heart-felt grin, knowing exactly who he’d bought the truck from.

“Billy’s truck?” she clarified.

“Yeah,” he said with a chuckle.

“I love that truck,” Clara sighed, thinking of the faded-red truck that could damn-near survive a nuclear bomb. 

The rest of the ride was quiet, as Clara thought about her upcoming days in Forks. Forks High School was small and tiny, but she knew a lot of the kids who went there. Angela, for instance, and Mike Newton from Olympic Outfitters. She’d met him when she’d been buying camping gear and fishing gear with Charlie once, and he’d seemed nice enough.

The small, two bedroom house that Charlie pulled up to incited feelings of love and nostalgia in Clara. This house was one of the two places she truly considered home. It took only one trip to get her two suitcases up to her room, which had once been her’s and Bella’s nursery. It had changed much since then, the walls light blue with green curtains, a desk by the window with the computer and phone, a twin-sized bed with a thick, forest-green comforter. The dresser was stuffed with clothes from her summers and the bathroom already held her toiletries. 

Charlie stood in the door for a moment before leaving, not hovering over Clara. She appreciated that as she finished putting her things away and sat at the desk as the computer booted up. While it slowly did, she bemoaned the loss of advanced technology of 2016. Moments like this made her wonder why the reincarnation cycle had to fuck her over and make her a 90’s kid. She hadn’t enjoy it at all. 

When the computer was finished booting up, she pulled up her email and saw that Renée had already emailed her. Clara sent back a quick reply to reassure her mother. When that was done, Clara took a long shower, made sure everything was ready for tomorrow, and climbed into bed for a good night’s rest.

The rain lulled her to sleep, a cherished lullaby.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday was foggy, the clouds promising a drizzle later on in the morning. Clara woke up feeling refreshed and happily-Phoenix-sweat-free. She could hear Charlie moving about the creaky house, and could smell bacon that had been microwaved. Rolling out of bed, Clara threw on a navy-blue sweat-shirt, another pair of skinny jeans, her lucky cacti-themed socks, her boots, and pulled her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. Despite the long hair, and the amazing feeling of the weight of it, she hated having hair in her face and usually put it up.

Clara didn’t wear makeup today, aside from chapstick but that didn’t count. Her skin was soft, smooth, and acne  _ free _ , thank you. She wasn’t going to jeopardize her skin in this life unless it was for a date or a dance. 

Breakfast was quiet, neither Clara nor Charlie awake enough for conversation. Charlie leaned over his coffee mug for as long as possible until he absolutely had to leave for work. Clara sat alone after that, in the yellow-painted kitchen, drinking a glass of water and washing her plate. She had familiarized the house, with its decorations and chips and pictures, all over the course of her life.

When Clara left the house, keys in hand and jacket on, it was raining lightly. With a grin, she hopped into the truck and breathed in the familiar smell of nicotine and La Push. She’d have to visit Jacob this weekend if she could. Over the roar of the engine she fiddled with the radio, finding a hip hop station that played songs she hadn’t listened to in years; laughing, she pulled out onto the road.

Forks High was still as small and unassuming as she remembered, but she pulled into the parking lot with ease. She parked near the exit for a quick escape after classes ended before trecking up to the front office.

Inside was bright and warm, small and padded with the feeling of a doctor’s waiting room more so than a school office. Flyers were posted everywhere and along the counter that separated the staff from students. The woman manning the counter was plump and red-haired, wearing circular glasses the emphasized her eyes and a purple shirt.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“I’m Clara Swan,” Clara started, but paused when the woman’s eyes lit up. No wonder, Charlie had probably bragged to everyone he knew that Clara was coming to live with him.

“Of course,” she smiled warmly at me, digging through the papers on her desk. Clara finally noticed the nameplate on the counter, declaring the woman Jane Cope. “I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school.”

Mrs. Cope, as Clara was instructed to call her, went over the classes with her. Clara had French, Computer Applications, Chemistry, and Creative Writing before lunch, and after lunch she had Advanced Algebra, Gym, and English afterwards. Clara hoped to get on top of the competition technology wise and get a well-paying job after college. As soon as this was done, Clara went back to her truck to wait for more students to arrive. 

As cars began pulling in, the shiniest of which was a silver sedan-type, Clara poured over the map. Forks was small enough that all she had to do was take a pen and plot out her route to classes to memorize everything. 

French was a quick and easy classroom; Madame gave her the syllabus and said that the class was reviewing vocabulary. Clara sat next to Mike Newton there, who was overjoyed to see that she was in Forks as rumors had said. The reddish-brunette was aware that Mike was a bit too friendly, but she gave him the benefit of doubt and had a lot of fun talking with him. He promised to find her before lunch so that she could sit with him and his friends. 

Computer Applications was taught by a hawk-like man named Mr. James who stared at Clara when he heard her name. Clara felt the slightest bit uncomfortable, but sat in her seat all the same.

As the rest of the class trickled in, Clara saw him. 

_ Holy fuck. _

Whoever this guy was, he deserved a modeling contract. He was paper-pale, unnaturally so, with sharp, boyishly handsome features like marble. His hair was bronze-colored and messily tousled like he had either had some really great sex or spent and hour styling it. His eyes, though were dark, a deep contrast to his pale skin and his pale clothes. He even dressed like he was off to a shoot in  _ Vogue _ instead of learning how to use Microsoft Word to the best of his ability. She could see the barest hint of a lean, muscled body underneath the cream sweater he wore.

And holy shit he was coming near her.

Clara had the irrational urge to run her hands through his hair and trace the lines of his face. He was just that pretty.

The classroom had tables that held two computers each, so students were separated into groups of two. Mr. James had said she had the only open seat. Clara watched as Teenage Adonis sat next to her, not acknowledging her in the slightest. Across the room, a kid she recognized vaguely from seeing around town at the laundromat and such complained that the room was stifling. Mr. James allowed him to and suddenly a cool breeze went through the room, bringing with it the smell of rain and green.

Clara forgot the boy next to her for that moment, closing her eyes and leaning her head back to take in a breath and enjoy the breeze. It  _ had _ started to get stifling in the room. 

Moment next to her startled her out of the moment of reverence. The boy, so pretty, had begun to stare at her. Face-on he was even more beautiful than from a side profile, she felt like she was staring at a statue made by Michelangelo. His dark eyes held the slightest hint of gold to them and Clara found them mesmerizing. There were dark circles under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a week.

But something about the boy scared her - no, that wasn’t the right word. It caused the same flip in her stomach she got at the idea of diving off the high dive, riding a motorcycle, standing in the middle of traffic. 

Like he could kill her at any moment but she loved it any way.

“Hi,” Clara eventually got out, wide eyed but most blank-faced. She forced herself to smile at him. “I’m Clara Swan.”

He clenched his jaw and turned away from her. Clara felt her stomach twist in embarrassment. When Mr. James instructed the class to get on to Office, she fumbled over the keyboard. She was reacting like she had the first time she’d touched a computer in this life, typing with speed and light touch that, on a laptop, would have words flying across the screen. In 2005, though, it only made the clunky keys barely move and create many typos. 

When the class ended, she thanked every deity she knew of that the boy disappeared out of the classroom with the force of the wind. Clara stumbled out of the classroom and onto wherever Creative Writing was held, nerves shot.

 

* * *

 

When lunch came around, Mike Newton accosted her and brought her to a table full of teenagers. Clara was introduced to Jessica Stanely, a short girl with hair as big as her personality, and other kids she immediately forgot the name of. Angela was sitting at the table, and gave her a small smile compared to Clara’s beam at her.

Clara found herself the center of attention as question after question was peppered at her. She talked so much during the lunch period her throat began to hurt. She was only distracted from the conversation when a group of beautiful, beautiful teenagers walked into the lunchroom, including the boy from C.A.

Alongside Him, there were two other boys; both were tall but one was practically monstrous, muscles practically straining against his shirt, his hair black and curly on his head. The second was lean, but still muscular, with shoulder-length honey-blond hair that was tied back in a ponytail. And, of course, the bronze-haired adonis. 

The two girls that were with them were just as beautiful. One was tall and looked like a Victoria’s Secret model had been carved out of marble and gold, long golden waves and curves; she had a  _ mean _ RBF, though, that made Clara quickly look to the next girl. This one was shorter, with black hair was seemed to have been cut without any thought, leading it to be in a disarray that still somehow looked couture. She had small features and looked like a fairy come to life. 

All of them had dark eyes and darker circles under their eyes. Clara felt her lungs constrict and realized she’d stopped breathing, taking in a quick lungfull. 

“Who’re they?” Clara whispered to Jessica, not taking her eyes off the group. 

After the way the bronze-haired one had glared at her this morning, Clara almost thought he would have left the school entirely to get away from her. It was only because she was still watching them that she saw him glance at Jessica for a split second - and then locked with Clara’s. He looked away just as quick, and a bit embarrassed to be caught staring, she turned away. Then the fairy-like one rose from the table, food untouched, and left the lunchroom.

Jessica seemed to feel the same, a blush across her cheeks as she stared at her lap. “That’s Edward Cullen and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife.”

Now she was remembering the name; Dr. Cullen had moved to Forks in 2003, she remembered, and a lot of the older people in La Push had been angry about it for some reason. Jacob and the twins had found their father’s prejudice irritating, and it had become the source of many fights. Clara wondered if they were all still fighting about it.

Their names matched their appearances, though; beautiful, strange, other-wordly. Clara looked back to the Cullens and saw that the scary beautiful was whispering to his siblings.

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered, barely above breathing. 

Jessica giggled, grinning at me. “Yes! They’re all  _ together _ , though - Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they  _ live _ together.”

Small-town gossip, Clara sighed mentally. But even in Phoenix it would cause a stir. Clara’s ideals and morals were of 2016, though, and as long as they weren’t blood-related, she didn’t see the problem. People couldn’t help who they loved and who they didn’t.

“They don’t look related,” Clara shrugged, “so I don’t see a problem with it.”

Jessica’s mouth twisted thoughtfully. “I guess, I mean, they’re all adopted. The Hales  _ are _ brother and sister, twins - the blondes - ah...”

She seemed to realize something was wrong in Clara’s expression, but her confusion had Clara wondering who all knew about Bella as her heart twisted in grief and longing and guilt. 

“It’s fine,” Clara assured her. “Please continue.”

Jessica looked a bit worried, bit her lip, but continued. “They’re foster children, Mrs. Cullen’s their aunt or something.”

Clara nodded along. Being a foster child at that age couldn’t be fun, but sometimes depending on the situation it was better than wherever they  _ could  _ be. She remembered starkly the feelings of herself as Molly, running and running and running because no one would listen to her and see that there was something  _ wrong _ with her family. Eventually she had learned to just ignore it, even after so many adults tried to help and validated her feelings as they saw what was happening. Her parents had been too quick to bring her ‘home’...

“Which one is the bronze-haired one?” Clara asked, and felt a bit embarrassed as Jessica’s face twisted at the description. “The one with reddish hair.”

Jessica turned to glance, but didn’t seem to need to as she spoke before she even moved. “That’s Edward. Bronze  _ is _ a really good descriptor, actually. He’s gorgeous, of course, but don’t waste your time. He doesn’t date-”

“That’s not it,” Clara interrupted, feeling her face flame as she groaned. “He’s in my second period, we sit next to each other. He glared at me the entire hour…”

“Oh, I know, he’s scary,” Jessica patted my shoulder sympathetically. “Apparently no one here is good enough for his company.”

Clara nodded hesitantly. Maybe he was just having a bad day? No, she shouldn’t get her hopes up. She always found herself fascinated by beautiful people and it never ended well.

Still she glanced over, and saw that Edward had a small, tiny smile on his face. After a few more minutes, the Cullens and Hales left together, trays as untouched as Alice’s were. Clara inferred which ones were which when the blonde girl took that curly-haired muscle-man’s hand, Rosalie and Emmett, while Edward and Jasper followed behind.

Lunch ended soon. Angela and Clara hugged and promised to catch up later before parting ways as she headed towards math. She had Mr. Varner in this class, along with Alice Cullen, but thankfully Clara sat far away from the beautiful girl. Mr. Varner was the only teacher to have her introduce herself to the class, to which Clara plastered on her best smile and did so cheerfully. 

She even got a few smiles back at her for her efforts and went to sit next to a boy with greasy hair that introduced himself as Eric Yorkie. Clara vaguely recalled him at the edge of the table she had sat at during lunch and greeted him with a warm smile. 

The rest of the day passed smoothly. Clara had gym with Mike, and they were playing volleyball. Her inner nerd rang true as she remembered an anime from… 2015? Probably. It had been a sports anime, about volleyball. It was one of the main reasons she enjoyed volleyball so much.

Clara threw herself into the game, forgetting all about Edward and his glares. She gave herself bruises after bruises, throwing herself to save the ball, dropping to her knees to put a hand underneath it, hands red and throbbing from blocking. She and Mike were a dream-team in this class, and he’d laughed about her Phoenix-genes coming true. 

She didn’t bother to tell him she wasn’t born in Phoenix.

Coach Clapp said that she should try out for the school team, but Clara responded that she didn’t have the time, which was a lie. She just didn’t want to and didn’t feel the need. Volleyball was something fun to play, but to her it wasn’t something she wanted to go into really. 

English was afterwards with Mr. Mason and Angela was in the class. She spent the entire period chatting with her old flame about how life was, how things had changed, and what was going on. It turned out that Angela was crushing hard on a boy named Ben, who Clara promised to help her ask out. Angela offered to walk her back to Mrs. Cope and then to her truck, because she had to turn in the slip of teacher signatures.

On the way, Clara told her all about Allen and that doomed failure of a relationship. Angela expressed her sympathies, and apologized that they themselves hadn’t worked out.

“Nah, bro,” Clara slipped back into her old slang, as she did when she was distracted. “It wasn’t your style, and I gotta respect that or I’m a douchebag.”

When they arrived at the Front Office, entering the warm room, Clara was smacked in the face with the subject she’d forgotten. Edward Cullen stood at the desk, speaking to Mrs. Cope.

He was being told that he couldn’t switch out of his second period Computer Applications. Without replying, he looked over his shoulder to stare directly at Angela and then at Clara. Glaring, dark heated eyes boring into her soul. And then he stalked away and out of the office without another word.

Clara’s good mood dropped, feeling a mixture of feelings. Relief that Edward was gone from the vicinity, relief that he was still in her class. Disappointment that he was gone from the vicinity, disappointment he was still in her class. Anger that he thought himself important enough that he could switch out of a class just because he didn’t like her. Indignation - what had she done to him?! Nothing!

With a few sharp words to Mrs. Cope, which she regretted the moment they left her mouth, Clara drug Angela out of the office and towards her truck.

“Why does he seem to hate you?” Angela whispered, eyes wide. “He’s always seemed… well, stand-offish, but not mean!”

“No clue,” Clara admitted with a scowl. “He seems like a douchebag to me.”

 

* * *

 

When she got home that evening, Clara paced around the living room for thirty minutes, fuming about the idiot that was Edward Cullen. With a noise of frustration, she went upstairs and fell into her bed, fully clothed, and determined to sleep away her anger. When she woke up, hours later in the middle of the night, she remembered why she didn’t nap after school. 

Clara ended up heating up Charlie’s leftovers - the man himself had fallen asleep on the couch. Clara sighed and nudged him half-awake and led him to his bedroom, pulled off his shoes and tucked him in. With a fond shake of her head, she went to eat the pizza. 

She ended up staying awake the entire rest of the night. She spent it writing her mother another email, complaining about Edward and talking about how nice everyone seemed to be. She finished her homework and took a long shower. She read a bit of her English book, hating every minute of Wuthering Heights.

Eventually, she got dressed, ate breakfast, said goodbye to Charlie for the day, and went to school.

Edward Cullen was not in Computer Apps. He was not at lunch.

Nor was he the rest of the week.

 

* * *

 

Her first weekend, she and Charlie drove out to visit Billy and Jacob. The teenager had had another growth spurt since last summer, so Clara ended up glaring up at the beanpole who grinned back at her. He was fifteen to her 17-going-on-18 and already taller than her 5’6”. 

_ I used to be tall _ , she later wrote to Bella after spending the weekend rough-housing and messing around in the garage with Jacob on car parts.  _ I was almost 6’. Fucking reincarnation. Fucking teenage boys and their heights.  _

Monday morning came. January 24th. She didn’t worry that Edward Cullen would invade her space in Computer Apps, seeing as he’d been MIA the past week. Instead, she happily dressed in a green sweat-shirt, skinny jeans, and her boots, the simple combination, with her hair up. Today, though, she wore a silver ring on her right pinkie, a simple band with no design, wide and thick. On her left middle finger, she wore two thin silver bands that merged together into an infinity sign in the middle. 

French went by quickly, she and Mike whispering French insults to each other.

Computer Apps would pass quick enough, she knew -

Wait.

Clara stopped in the middle of the classroom. 

Edward Cullen sat in his seat at their desk. His eyes were bright gold, the same difference she had seen the others of his family have, and just like them the circles under his eyes had lessened, but he looked no less supermodel-esque than he had last Tuesday. 

Only this time, he wasn’t glaring at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FFN Author Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. My schedule is to be a new Chapter every Wednesday and Friday at 10AM PST USA. Please leave a review, they spur me forward. Next update to come Wednesday, April 27th, 2016!


	3. Chapter Two

Edward Cullen was sitting in his seat, which had been for the past week unoccupied. Clara’s day was suddenly going downhill. Swallowing her spit, she went to sit in her seat, waving and greeting a few classmates along the way. Maybe he wouldn’t be as mean this time? Did lighter eyes mean that he was happy? How did that even work?

_ I mean, reincarnation happens, so… _

Sitting down softly, Clara started to boot up her computer, intending to start working on the microsoft assignment that had been assigned last Friday. Her experience meant that she was halfway done already and would hopefully finish by the end of class with time to spare. 

Clara had just opened up the file, with all it’s pretty colors and fonts, when she was startled into jumping.

“Hello,” said a musical voice. 

Fuck he was talking to her. Why was he talking to her? She stared at him, fingers poised over the keyboard. He wasn’t even glaring! What the hell? She hadn’t actually thought he’d be nice to her!

_ What did I do to deserve this? _ she thought to herself, trying to figure out if this was a good thing or not. 

“My name is Edward Cullen,” he said after a moment of her simply staring in shock. “I didn’t have the chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Clara Swan.”

Her mouth opened to answer - and then closed. Opened - and then closed.

Finally she found her voice. “Y-yeah, it’s all good, dude. I feel ya. Nice to meet ya.”

He smiled, small and with no teeth, speaking softly. “What did I miss?”

Clara swallowed again, and gestured to her screen. “We’re doing an assignment of creating a flyer on Microsoft Word. It’s pretty easy, but it’s due this Friday.”

He leaned closer, only a few inches, to stare at her screen. It was enough to send the still-floral smell of his shampoo in her direction and she blushed, looking away. She desperately wanted to be both closer and far, far away from Edward.

“You seem to have the hang of this,” he mused. “Thank you for telling me.”

Clara decided not to mention the fact that his eyes were a light golden color. As the class progressed, not even five minutes in, Edward was speaking again. Clara was weirded out, but drawn in as well.

“It’s snowing,” he murmured, looking out the window. “Must be different in Phoenix?”

Clara shrugged slightly, glancing out the window while still typing, a skill long-developed both in this life and her last. “I can’t wait to get out there. I haven’t seen snow in  _ ages _ .”

“You didn’t like the heat?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and suddenly locking eyes with her as he turned back: Clara realized she’d been staring as she typed and flushed, looking back at her screen. She’d made three typos.

“Not really, but it was alright,” she said.

He sounded confused as he spoke. “Then why did you leave?”

“Because I love Forks,” she answered, cracking her neck. Edward twitched at the noise. “And my mother got remarried. She wanted to travel.”

“Do you not like him?” Edward was honestly curious, but this was more information than Clara had told anyone in this school yet.

“No, Phil’s great. He’s a baseball player, minor league,” Clara grinned, remembering his enthusiasm for the sport she’d never been good at. “I just wanted what made both of us happy.”

There was a sad twinge to her voice, though, as she knew what would have made them happier. Bella waking up.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re happy,” he pushed, and Clara felt a flare of irritation. Bella… Bella was a sensitive topic to her.

But she had made the assumption that Edward Cullen was an asshole, when apparently he’d been just having a rough day. And now  _ Clara _ felt like the asshole. He deserved his answers, grudging though she was to give them.

“The only thing that would make us happier is if my sister Bella woke up,” she rushed out. “She got hit by a car when we were ten. She’s been comatose since.”  
“I’m sorry,” he said, and Clara felt like he was genuinely sorry for bringing up bad memories. “It must be hard.”

Clara nodded, thinking upon the years she’d gotten with her sister, the fact that her comatose state was Clara’s own fault. “You have no idea… Either way, I write her letters. It almost feels like one day she’ll wake up and all I’ll have to do is let her read them and it’ll have been like she was there all along, just away on a trip.” Then she laughed, quietly. “Bella would have hated to live in Forks. She hated the cold and wet.”

The conversation tapered off as Clara became lost in her memories. She could imagine Bella being here, hating the weather, but still  _ awake _ . Her brown eyes would actually be open. It was something Clara could only ever dream of, it seemed.

In that split second, Clara wanted to die. She wished that she had died when she was fifteen and tried to commit suicide; she wished she’d died at seventeen in her last life, when she was hit by the semi-truck. She felt the acute need to slit her throat, to throw herself off a building, to step right into traffic again…

Clara took in a deep breath and forced herself to think about everything she would miss if she gave in to these impulses. Everything that would happen to the people around her. Life was, well, not amazing fantastic, but it was good. Great, even. 

Class ended a moment later, and Clara stared at the screen as Edward disappeared as fast as he had on Monday, wondering where the time had gone.

She drifted through the snow filled parking lot, and found her mood slowly lifting as she was drug into a snowball fight with Eric and Angela. When she     her way into Chemistry, she still had snow in her hair, but her depressive mood was gone and there was a flushed smile on her face.

And then Jessica accosted her for lunch, whispering furiously in her ear.

“Is it true? Do you have a twin sister who’s in a coma?”

And like that, her good mood evaporated. 

Edward wouldn’t have gossiped. He didn’t seem the type to even  _ talk _ to someone normally, let alone spend enough time with someone to drop the juicy goods. Unless that had been his plan all along - some people could fake friendliness to get in the know and then ruin someone. It was the plot and strategy behind most assassinations: the one you least expect.

But no, she’d only just realized he wasn’t an asshole. She’d give him a chance. It was much more likely that someone had overheard her talking to Edward, probably spurred on by the fact that she was  _ talking to Edward _ , and gossiped about what they’d heard. And now everyone knew. 

“Yeah,” Clara said, and felt her stomach flip. “I… I don’t feel so good. I’m gonna go to the Nurse.”

When she got there, she feigned a stomach bug and had the Nurse give her a pass to go home. She got into her car by the time passing period ended and lunch truly began, and even passed the Cullens on the way to her truck. She waved at Edward hurriedly, lips pursed together. 

When she got home, she crawled into bed and let herself begin a terrible sleeping schedule once more.

 

* * *

 

That night, as Clara got up at midnight and began to get ready for another Tuesday, she noted that it had begun to snow heavily. By dawn, the roads were icy and she had decided to layer a long sleeved black undershirt over her sports bra with a dark red sweat-shirt over it, thicker skinny jeans and fluffy socks. 

She made breakfast that morning, eggs and bacon and fresh coffee, feeling in the best mood she’d had all week. Charlie grumbled about her mood, but grinned behind the rim of his mug as he drank his coffee. The two of them worked together to put snow chains on the cruiser and truck’s tires, red nosed and cold by the end of it but happily awake. 

Clara gave Charlie a hug and a kiss goodbye before heading back inside to ready her bag. She was excited. Excited to see Edward in second period, to talk with him and maybe learn more about him instead of  _ her _ just spilling her life story. 

Her dreams had been a mixture of Bella’s brown eyes, teary as she lay on the road at age ten, and Edward’s crooked, boyish smile when he forgot to keep it polite. Bella’s presence was one she was used to, as was always there when the event was brought up; Edward, though, was a new addition. 

Clara was almost scared at how much she was already attached to the beautiful boy after one conversation. One where she had practically over-shared, but he hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, he’d been quite interested.

The drive to school was one filled with hip hop and Clara tonelessly singing along. In this life, she didn’t have a singing voice, but that didn’t stop her - the fact that she  _ still _ couldn’t rap didn’t matter either. She laughed and expertly drove over the icy road. She  _ had _ managed to last a until February before she died driving after getting her car in July. 

When she got out of the car, safely parked in the lot and ready for French, she spotted the Cullens standing around the silver sedan, more than three cars away. And there was Edward, watching her. WIth a grin, she waved, and received a wave back for her efforts. Humming, she went to check if the back tires still had the chains secured, because she’d heard some suspicious cracking while driving, but found them secure.

And then she heard the familiar, terror-inducing screech of tires sliding desperately against the road. A dark blue van was skidding towards me, and the driver looked terrified and was screaming. Clara locked up subconsciously, knowing that doing so only made injuries worse in the long-run but unable to help it. She had not stepped in front of this truck deliberately, hadn’t forced her body limp.

She blacked out when something slammed into her, eyes closing a millisecond before-hand. Blacking out was familiar to her as breathing, she knew instantly what had happened when she blinked open her eyes next, her head throbbing and her body cold and sore. Once again, Clara had been hit by a car. 

But something impossible had happened, because Edward Cullen was leaning over Clara protectively, hands pressed into the side of the blue van and holding it above and away from crushing her body, cursing. With another murmured swear, his hands blurred like a panoramic picture taken wrong, pulling my body out from under the van and letting it fall. Glass scattered as the van groaned, and Clara tried to keep her head clear as she stared up at her savior.

“What the fuck?” she groaned, blinking as Edward swung his gaze to her - he had tucked her into his side and appeared to be checking her for injuries. “I mean, shit, man - you saved my life - but what the actual fuck?”

The familiar cold-hot-exhaustion feeling was growing inside her. She felt the back of her head throb and wondered if she had a twin wound on the back of it from her past life, if it was going to take eleven staples and scar over the course of two months again. 

“Clara, stay awake,” a distant, musical voice demanded as cold hands cupped her face.

“Wha’ ‘he fuck,” she mumbled instead.

And then she passed out.

 

* * *

 

When Clara woke up, she was having the new staples in the back of her head checked by a doctor with paper-pale skin, gold eyes, blond hair, and the looks of a fucking God. Like, Eros-level beauty. Better-than-Eros-level beauty. She knew within a single second that this was Dr. Cullen, Edward’s adoptive father. 

From her drug-hazed mind, she noted that Edward was there, too, sitting in the plastic chair next to Clara. Charlie was nowhere to be seen, meaning she hadn’t been asleep  _ very _ long. Edward looked like he was on the verge of murder, but he had concern shining in his eyes.

Suddenly, she remembered the circumstances of her survival, and mumbled, “What the shit?”

“Miss Swan,” Dr. Cullen suddenly greeted, as if he had just been waiting for me to speak. “How are you feeling?” 

He had a smile on his face, and suddenly Clara felt like maybe she  _ had  _ died and finally gone to the afterlife. That apparently, the Christian Heaven was real because she obviously faced with an angel. She shook the feeling off.

Whatever the Cullens were, though, was certainly not human.

“Like ah go’ hi’ by a ‘ruck,” Clara mumbled, her mouth felt like she had stuffed it full of cotton, and then she clarified with a giggle. “Ah semi-’ruck…”

He was taping gauze to the back of my head, “No wonder, you  _ did  _ just get hit by a van. We’re all very glad you’re okay.”

Clara nodded along, and then winced. “S’good, ‘hanks. Edward saved me...however ‘he fuck he did ‘hat. Don’ care. Keep yo secre’s.”

Her mind was hazy with painkillers. 

“Everyone’s go’ secre’s…”

And she was slipping back into oblivion.

When she woke up next, she was in a single patient's room, the sky was dark, and Charlie was asleep next to her. His cell phone was out on the table and Clara felt clear-headed enough to grab it and check his last calls; Renée, she noted, as he snored. Of course.

Knowing her mother, she’d be on a plane already. Car crashes in their family, specifically in regards to her and Bella, were never regarded as good omens. (Especially if Clara took into account her past life. Fuck, why was it always car crashes?)

She dialed Renée’s number and patiently waited. A near-by clock read that it was nine in the evening.

Renée picked up on the second ring. “ _ Charlie? Has something happened? I  _ knew _ I should have booked a plane the moment you told me! I’m coming as soon- _ ”

“Mom,” Clara breathed in the phone, leaning back into her seat. Surrounded by the patter of rain, Charlie’s snores, and her mom’s voice… Clara had never felt safer.

“ _ Clara? _ ” Renée gasped, and her voice went further away. “ _ Phil, it’s Clara, she’s awake, thank god, she’s awake. Clara, honey, how are you? _ ”

“As good as I can be,” Clara chuckled into the phone. “I’m gonna have some scars, I bet, but that’s it aside from bruises. I’m fine.”

Renée gave a wet laugh through the phone. “ _ Oh my god, Clara, you have no idea how worried I was. Should I come get you? I can come get you. I’ll bring Phil and your favorite blanket. _ ”

Clara smiled into her phone, hearing her mother typing. She was probably trying to find a flight already.

“No, mom, it’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t stop travelling, Dad’s gonna take great care of me. I’ll call you every day.”

She could hear Renée’s hesitation. “ _ Oh, but honey… If you’re sure…. _ ”

“I’m sure, mom,” Clara insisted. “One measly van isn’t gonna stop Clara Helen Swan. You know that.”

She laughed, but it was tinged with sadness, the way car crashes always made the Swan-Dwyer family. “ _ Yeah, honey, you’re right. But you had better call me every day until you’re all healed! Or I’ll come to Forks every day myself! _ ”

Clara laughed. “Of course you would, mom. I love you. I’m gonna be fine, I swear.”

“ _ I love you, too, _ ” Renée said, and Clara could feel the emotion in her mother’s voice. Distantly, she heard Phil echo Renée and she smiled wider. “ _ Now you go back to sleep. I have no doubt that your sleeping patterns are all skewed, it’s not good for your chakra… _ ”

Clara nodded, despite being half-a-country away from her mom being able to see it. “Okay, mom. Talk to you later. Bye.”

“ _ Bye, love. _ ”

Clara ended the call and put the chunky flip-phone back on the table and leaned back into her pillows, content to listen to the rain and Charlie. It was these two things that lulled her back to sleep.

 

* * *

__

Clara stayed home for two weeks, three days of which beforehand spent in the Hospital. Clara did indeed have a scar across the back of her head, a large one that zig-zagged down from just behind her left ear to the edge of her hair-line in the middle. It constantly ached, the staples hurting with every second. At the end of the two weeks, though, the staples were taken out, she was given pain medication and sent on her way to school again.

During the two weeks, though, Clara had had many visitors. Jessica and Angela and Mike were the forerunners of the list, coming practically every day after school without fail. They filled her in with the happenings of the school, and Jessica did a very thrilling rendition of the crash, but Clara could tell she was jealous of her when Jessica spoke of how Edward had tried to follow her into the ambulance, holding her hand the entire time the paramedics were strapping her up.

Some kids thought Clara had put herself in the situation to try and be with her sisters - others thought Tyler, the driver, had intentionally aimed at her because she rejected a love confession. It was all very stupid, and Clara was thankful none of her friends actually believed such things. 

She still had trouble washing her hair by the end of the two weeks, but she had gotten all the blood out of her hair. Putting her hair up with next to impossible, so she wore a blue headband to keep her hair out of her face.

It was time to go back to school, she guessed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, Friday, April 29th, 2016, 10AM PST-USA time.


	4. Chapter Three

On February 11th, a Friday, Clara went back to school. She wore warm clothes and her headband, hair down, and walked to class with an escort of Mike, Angela, and Jessica rotating. She had her suspicions that Charlie had asked the three to make sure she was okay throughout the day, and was grateful to her dad but a bit miffed. Mentally, she was in her mid-thirties, she could handle herself.

French went quietly, the entire class continuously glancing at her as if to make sure she was actually there. By the time she stepped into Computer App’s, people were whispering as she walked. She collapsed into her seat like it was sanctuary, and then nearly screamed when a person suddenly entered her vision.

Edward Cullen was staring at her like he was worried she might suddenly start bleeding from her head again. Which, she might say, was a bit hypocritical, seeing as he  _ hadn’t visited her at all _ . Clara took a deep breath.

He was probably just busy. 

_ Or he wants to make sure you haven’t spilled the beans about whatever he did.  _

Nope, nope. Not gonna even entertain the thought, thank you very much. Clara’s paranoia would not ruin her interactions with Edward. She liked him too much to do so, maybe a bit too much. It wouldn’t be good in the long run to like someone inhuman, not in her position, but Clara couldn’t help her feelings.

“Clara,” he spoke her name like a prayer, and goosebumps raised on her skin. “Are you feeling alright?”

Clara smiled at him, “Yeah, Edward, I’m good. I’m glad to see that you’re alright as well, haven’t seen you in a while.”

Okay, she could forgive him for not visiting, but she wasn’t about to let him forget it. Her attempt at an accusation only had him smiling at her softly, though. 

“I was worried,” he admitted. “You were seeing things, after the accident. I’m glad you’re fine now.”

Seeing things? What? Clara had only ever been diagnosed with depression, a mild mood-disorder, and an anxiety disorder, never anything relating to psychosis or schizophrenia- wait. 

Clara felt righteous anger flow through her. 

He had a right to his secrets. Edward Cullen and his family could never tell her a single thing and she would die content. But pretending as if she hadn’t seen what she’d seen, as if she were crazy, making her question her mind and its safety - that was  _ not cool _ .

“I know what I saw, Edward,” she hissed at him, eyes narrowed and lip pulling up as she attempted to practically snarl. An old habit. “But don’t worry, you don’t have to make me feel crazy. I wasn’t going to tell,  _ asshole. _ ”

The words she spit at him made him lean back, regarding her with dark golden eyes. God he was beautiful, even now, while she was angry at him. She could feel her angry try to drizzle away, but she wouldn’t let his looks affect her in such a way. 

The rest of the hour was spent in silence, neither looking at the other, and Clara stewed in her anger. When the class ended and Edward rushed from the room like a man running from death, she regulated her breathing and went on as if she had never gotten in an argument with a person who could likely kill her before she even realized he was there. 

Fucking Cullens.

  


* * *

  


The month passed like this, the two of them barely speaking. Clara’s days were painted a rage-and-regretful red and blue whenever she was reminded that she and Edward were no longer on speaking terms. 

Clara’s light of the day was concentrated to math, gym, and english, of which she had Angela, Mike, and Jessica with her in that order. It was harder in math, because Alice Cullen stared at her every second of the class period. It was weird and Clara couldn’t blame her; the simple human knows you’re not human? Yeah, Clara would stare at her, too, waiting for her to slip up.

The story Clara concocted was that Edward and she had been talking by the truck when the van hit, and he had pulled her out of the way. It was simply enough to convince the students that they had simply missed the sight of Edward next to her when the van was taking their attention. It matched up with what very little Edward said to teachers, so it was all good.

February passed very slowly. Every night until the middle of the month, Renée and she would talk on the phone for an hour. Renée made sure to call at five in the evening exactly, to make sure Clara wasn’t sleeping the day away and staying up all night instead. She called her an owl whenever Clara got back into the habit.

When March approached and Clara heard that there was a girls-choice spring dance coming up, her spirits were lifted. Dances had always been something she enjoyed, despite any lackluster company. She was able to have fun by herself if need-be, and since the only person she could really think about asking was Edward… Well, Clara decided that she would go alone and have fun. 

She might even go with a group of friends! That would be nice. 

The first Tuesday of March, Jessica asked if it was okay to ask Mike out - Clara had noticed that Mike had a crush on her, and encouraged Jessica to ask him out. The two would be nice together, she thought. Angela had finally gotten up the courage to ask Ben, with Clara’s insistence, and the boy had said yes. 

Wednesday, the 2nd of March, Mike was unusually quiet as we walked to gym. Clara knew what was coming, because she had seen the downtrodden look on Jessica’s face at lunch, and had the urge to punch the stupid, naive boy in his puppy-ish face. 

“Jessica asked me to the spring dance,” he said, looking down at his shoes quietly.

“And you turned her down,” Clara replied, crossing her arms and frowning slightly.

“It was just that...well… I told I would think about it, but...” he ran a hand through his hair, messing up his spikes. “I was hoping you would ask me.”

Clara sighed, shoulders slumping. Had he tried to play it off and play the ‘good guy getting friend-zoned’ card that was only for douchebag dudebros, she would have gotten truly mad. But Mike  _ was _ naive and puppy-ish to his core. She couldn’t stay mad at him.

“Mike, I don’t see you that way,” she said as gently as she could, placing a hand on his arm. “You’re one of my best friends, but we wouldn’t be compatible. You would be really, really happy with Jessica. You should say yes.”

He bit his lip and his shoulders tensed. “Did you already ask someone?”

Clara laughed lightly, taking her hand away and running it over the back of her head, lightly tracing her scar. This habit was both new and old. 

“No, Mike, I’m planning on going by myself,” she answered. 

Mike looked confused. “What? You’re not going to have a lot of fun, then…”

Clara waved her hand as if swatting away a persistent fly, rolling her eyes and tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Nah, my one-girl party is gonna have a hella amount of fun. I’m going to Port Angeles before hand, gonna eat my heart out at a Chinese restaurant, gonna dance the night away with all my friends, and sleep until noon the next day. The dance is going to be  _ awesome _ .”

Mike seemed unsure, but in the face of her relentless enthusiasm and support of taking Jessica to the dance, he relented. 

“Yeah, okay,” he took a deep breath, not looking at Clara. “Thanks for letting me down easy, though.”

Clara smiled, face softening from her gleeful grin, and her voice was warm. “No problem, Mike. Now, go get yourself a date.”

In gym, the class had finally gotten to basketball. It wasn’t a sport that Clara excelled in, but her competitiveness in any sort of game (even Jeopardy, she’d given that one kid a bloody nose in Phoenix because he gloated about being ahead) won out, so she threw herself into the sport.

Afterwards, still a bit sweaty and her hair bundled up in the first bun she’d had since the accident, Clara walked to English and got ambushed by a blushing Eric. Even surrounded by tons of other students, Eric’s hopeful face drew her in like a car accident on the side of the road. It was with exasperation and irritation that she realized what he wanted. 

“Yo, Eric,” she said cheerfully, though she did not feel as such on the inside. She’d give him a chance to back down, at least.

“Clara,” he grinned, pimply-face brightening. Clara felt guilty at having to turn the eager boy down, but knew that he was just too childish for her. “I, uh, was wondering - do you want to go to the spring dance with me?”

The last bit was rushed, like he tried to say it in a single second, but Clara got it well enough at ‘spring dance’ and ‘me.’  With a sad smile, Clara kept her distance. Unlike with Mike, she got the feeling the unnecessary touch would just worsen the situation.

“I’m sorry, Eric, but I’m going alone,” she said, watching his face fall. She wanted to hug the poor kid and push him towards girls who might actually like him.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” Clara echoed hollowly as Jessica pranced up to the duo with the happiest grin Clara had seen on her face all day. 

“Mike said yes!” she squealed, throwing her arms around Clara for a hug. Eric, with this distraction, sulked off to a corner desk where he tried to pick up his pride from where it had shattered.

“I’m glad,” Clara said, pushing the two of them to their seats.

English was dull and agonizingly long. Clara had stopped reading the book and was simply winging any quiz given, riding on the coattails of Jessica who seemed to actually like the class. Jessica was fine with it because Clara helped her with her Chemistry work whenever she asked. When the class ended, Clara was out of the room like a shot, feeling extremely like Edward. 

And slammed into Edward, who was lurking outside the classroom.

It felt more like slamming into a brick wall, and Clara stumbled away, dazed, blinking stars out of her eyes. Cold, strong hands led her a little ways away, towards the parking lot and keeping her steady until she could think again. 

It was Edward, eyes a neutral golden and a vaguely worried expression on his face.

“Are you alright, Clara?” he asked, and suddenly Clara was hit with the fact that she damn-near had an addiction to hearing him say her name. Fucking Edward Cullen.

“I’m fine, Edward,” she bit back, lips tugging down as she pulled away from the beautiful, beautiful boy. “Why do you care? Trying to be friends after a month of radio silence?”

The words seemed to hit him like a blow as he flinched back and held up his hands half-heartedly. “I  _ do _ care about you, Clara, and that is exactly why I am  _ not _ trying to be friends with you.”

Clara’s brow furrowed and her mouth dropped open in confusion and irritation, “What the fuck, Edward? You’re not the star of some kind of Shakespearean tragedy, tone it down.” When he continued to look like he was hurt, she threw her hands up. “Whatever. I have places to be.”

But Edward holding her back had given Tyler enough time to walk over as Clara hurried to her truck. Before she even got to the driver’s door, he grabbed her elbow to stop her. The encounter with the Cullen had shortened her fuse generously, so when she turned, she was glaring venomously and trying to keep her cool.

“Hey, Clara, I was wondering,” he started, and Clara knew where this was going. 

She wanted to go  _ home _ , goddammit. She wanted to sleep the afternoon away and stay awake in the dark, listening to the rain. Not stand here and listen to a boy try to ask her out.

“Sorry, I’m going to the dance alone,” she said, and maybe a bit too forcefully, pulled herself away, slammed the truck door open, climbed into the cab, and slammed it shut without another word.

In the next five minutes, she was out of the parking lot and on her way home.

  


* * *

  


She slept the afternoon through, and when she woke up around eleven, she simply took her evening shower and climbed back into bed. Clara wanted to sleep for years, but she woke up consistently for a few minutes every hour. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t change her breathing, determined that she would remain asleep.

Her dreams were inconsistent, and all of them were of Edward and Bella. Some were Bella blaming her for her state of being, some begged Clara to unplug her and let her die; with Edward, it was the same one over and over again. Lost in the woods, demanding Edward stay, and calling him an idiot.

Clara thought she had woken up at one point, but when she turned over with a crusty blink and saw Edward sitting at her desk, she thought it might be a dream. He had frozen, staring at her with wide eyes - almost afraid of what she might do. His eyes were bright golden, so much brighter than they had been.

She mumbled that he was an idiot who should stay, just like usual, but with the stark awareness in her mind, she knew she was not dreaming. She called him a weirdo and fell back asleep halfway through the word. Edward’s presence in her room did not make her feel unsafe the way she knew it should, knowing what she knew about him; instead, Clara took comfort in it, knowing that  _ nothing  _ could harm her while she was near him. 

And the next morning, when she could smell the faint hint of his shampoo still and felt the chill of the outside despite the window being shut, she knew she hadn’t dreamed it. 

“You fucking weirdo,” she murmured fondly. It wasn’t cool that he’d done it, but somehow she didn’t care. 

Didn’t mean she was going to let him continue.

The drive to Forks High School that morning was silent and irritable. She had a headache from the amount of sleeping she had done, her homework was unfinished and everything irritated her.

And then she went and dropped her fucking keys stepping out of the car. 

Her irritation flamed bright into indignant fury. How fucking dare her car keys. Betrayal. With a cry of anger, she kicked them as hard as she could and turned to put her face against her car door. 

“Calm yourself, Clara,” she murmured to herself. 

“I agree,” a voice said behind her and Clara jumped, slipped, and fell backwards.

Cold, smooth hands caught her, and she knew instantly who it was. Edward Cullen, The Boy Who Watches Girls Sleep, holding both her and her car keys.

“Look who it is, creepo extraordinaire,” Clara said sarcastically, staring up at Edward and crossing her arms, as if she had conversations upside down in his arms every day. “Did you think I _wouldn’t_ notice that you snuck into my room last night?”  
He went still and he feigned a confused expression. Had she not seen him last night for herself, known he was inhuman, she would have fallen for it. Instead, Clara just felt humor at the sight of him, like a child caught red-handed. She laughed in his face.

“Just ask next time, dumbass,” she groaned, and pulled herself out of his arms, taking the keys from him. “Thanks for the save. I don’t want to know, by the way, don’t tell me.”

Edward frowned, anger flashing in his eyes. “A man sneaks into your room while you sleep, and this is how you react?”

“Hey, now, bucko, I’m not saying I’m okay with it,” she totally was. “I’m just saying, you need to ask. Consent. Privilege.”

He growled under his breath. Honest-to-God growled. “I could have hurt you.”

“You didn’t, though, Edward,” Clara reminded him, suddenly quiet. “You didn’t. And in fact, I actually trust you not to hurt me, how about that?”

His lips pressed into thin lines, glancing up to the sky as if looking for answers. “You shouldn’t.”

Clara threw her hands in the air, and with a huff, began to walk to French. Edward, however, followed. 

“Wait,” he called, gently taking her elbow, but not enough that Clara would have trouble breaking free. “I’m sorry, that was rude. True, but still rude.”

At least he was honest.

“Go away, Edward,” Clara groaned, rubbing a hand across her face. “We’ll see each other next period. I have class and so do you. Good bye.”

“I wanted to ask you something,” he hurriedly said, even as the parking lot emptied and the time for class drew ever closer.

“Shoot, then.”

“I was wondering if, a week from Saturday - you know, the day of the spring dance,” he said, and Clara almost felt like interrupting him, but her mouth was gaping now in incredulity. He couldn’t be. “If you would like to go with me to the dance.”

“What the shit.” was her immediate reply. As Edward opened his mouth, Clara continued. “Edward, you don’t ignore a girl for a month, sneak into her bedroom while she sleeps, say you’re not to be trusted, and  _ then ask her to a dance _ .”

He looked both amused and worried, a tiny tilt to his lips. “Oh? What would you have me do?”

“Be my friend for a week and  _ then _ see if I want to go to the dance with you,” Clara said, as if she were talking to a child. Edward was just  _ so weird.  _ “But that couldn’t happen, because you say that we can’t be friends.”

“It would be better if we weren’t friends,” Edward answered quickly, stepping half a pace forward, looking deep into Clara’s eyes. She held her breath, trying to remember what she’d been saying, before shaking herself out of the daze. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be.”

Jesus, she took what she said yesterday back. Edward really was the star of a Shakespearian tragedy all his own. 

But she could understand exactly where he was coming from. And that made her hesitate, sigh, close her eyes, and nod. 

“Alright,” she said quietly, hearing the class bell ring. “If we can be civil with each other for a week, I’ll go to the dance with you. Happy?”

Edward’s smile was shining like the sun in Forks; a rare occurrence that had to be celebrated. “Immensely. I’m much too tired of staying away from you. I’ll see you second period.”

  


* * *

  


She spent all of French distracted, much too distracted to talk to Mike or do her work. She and Edward were...friends? Maybe something more? Definitely something. The way Edward had talked about staying away from Clara made her think that he felt the same attraction to her that she felt to him. 

When second period finally began, she practically ran to her seat. Edward was there only a few seconds after her, a crooked smile on his face that Clara couldn’t help but return. She felt giddy. But then he sat down and the first thing out of his mouth irritated her.

“I’m warning you right now, I might not be a good friend for you,” he smiled as he said it, but Clara got the feeling that he was being serious.

“Don’t give a shit,” she said plainly, containing laughter at the way his lips twisted at her swearing. 

What the hell even was he that he continuously thought it better for Clara to be away from him was better than being near? Clara herself was a reincarnation, so that pretty much took away all her considerations of what is and isn’t real. Instantly, her mind jumped to the fantastical - maybe he was a Faerie, like Silwan in that book series she read in her past life, forever living in torment. What had it been called? Sundown, she remembered.

“What are you thinking?” Edward suddenly asked, leaning forward to stare at her and ignore Mr. James completely as he talked at the board.

“I’m thi-” Clara suddenly remembered how people had overheard her speaking of Bella to Edward. She glanced around and saw no one paying attention, but kept her voice quiet. “I’m thinking about what you might be.”

Edward’s stance tensed, and then relaxed, as if he had to force it. “Any luck?”

Watching him easily sit next to so much iron in a computer, though, Clara sighed. “Not much.”

He grinned, humor lighting up his eyes. “What are your theories?”

“Well,” Clara answered, turning her computer and desktop on. “There was you being one of the Fae, but you don’t have any trouble with iron.”

“No, I do not,” Edward confirmed with a chuckle.

“Well, unless you’ve been bitten by a radioactive beauty bug, I have no clue,” Clara huffed, leaning back in her seat.

However, in the back of her head, she felt a niggling worry. She had a feeling about what he was, but…

Edward smiled his crooked, beautiful smile, and leaned towards Clara with a grin. “No, spiders don’t like me.”

Clara laughed away her worries with a grin, leaning into her seat. “I think I’ll keep you around, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter to come Wednesday, May 4th, 2016, 10AM PST-USA time!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is an illusion, this is totally not an hour and a half late.

When lunch rolled around, Clara only got a few moments to sit down at her table with Angela and everyone, all of them chatting about the spring dance, before Jessica looked up with a gasp. Something over Clara’s shoulder was quite interesting. Before she even turned around to see what it was, Jessica whispered it to her.

“Edward Cullen is staring at you,” she sounded shocked and the tiniest bit jealous. “I wonder why he’s sitting alone today.”

Alone? 

Clara looked up, confused, and turned to where the Cullens usually sat. Indeed, there were only four people at the table, the bronze-haired boy was missing. Twisting around in her chair, she saw that Edward was sitting on the opposite side of the cafeteria from his usual seat, smiling at her. She felt a blush rise on her cheeks, and knew that her cheeks must be bright red.

Edward raised a hand and gestured for her to come over to him. And then he winked.

_ What the fuck. _

Edward Cullen sitting with anyone but his family was just not done. In class they could talk and joke, but it was more because they were sitting next to each other and it was kind-of forced. That was the friendship Clara had expected, along with maybe an awkward date to the dance. 

She had not, however, expected this.

“Does he mean  _ you _ ?” Jessica’s voice was astonished, as if she had followed the same train of thought Clara had. 

“I guess,” Clara mumbled, and stumbled out of her seat and towards Edward, feeling Jessica’s eyes bore into her back.

Edward smiled at her while Clara sat down, making her blush  _ again _ and feel greatly inferior, but she tried to brush it off. She wasn’t inferior, just not whatever-the-hell-he-was. Because she refused to believe that beauty was human.

“Why don’t you sit with me today?” he said.

For a moment, Clara just stared at him incredulous, before grinning and letting a huff of laughter escape her. “When you want to be friends, you  _ want to be friends _ , huh. Pull out all the stops.”

He tilted his head, eyes drooping in thought. “That is what friendship is, yes? And I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.”

Clara shook her head, sighing quietly. “Whatever you say, dude. Now, if we shall be friends, I have to ask you a very important question.”

Edward glanced back at the table she had sat at for a moment, before relaxing into his chair and looking very curious. And a bit worried, now that she thought about it. What did he think she was going to ask him?

“Do you like the Harry Potter series?”

He looked taken aback for a split second, eyes wide, before his smile, the crooked one that showed a hint of teeth, bloomed on his beautiful face. Edward threw his head back and laughed, and suddenly, Clara knew what true music sounded like. His voice rang like a bell, inciting other students to turn and stare if they hadn’t been already. The only reaction Clara gave was straightening her back, trying to focus on Edward and not on the prying eyes. 

“You really are hard to read,” Edward said, leaning forward into his palm, where his arm was propped on the table. “I can never anticipate what comes out of your mouth.”

Clara grinned, waving her hands, “Man, anyone who calls themselves my friend knows that important things, in regards to me, are Harry Potter-related. I’m quite easy to read.”

“On the contrary,” he murmured, staring her down with lidded eyes. Clara felt her blush coming back. “You’re incredibly hard to read.”  
“You must be good at it then,” Clara mused, shuffling in her seat to sit criss-cross on the chair. 

“Very,” he said, eyes suddenly darker in thoughts, before watching as Clara took a swig of her water bottle. “Aren’t you hungry?”

“Hm? Nah, I had poptarts throughout Creative Writing,” Clara grinned, remembering the sugary goodness. She might still be a bit hyper, to tell the truth. “You’re not eating anything, either. Now, back to Harry Potter. What House do you think you’d be in?”  
Edward stared at her for a moment, as if wondering if she was being serious. To help him along, Clara continued.

“I think I’d be in Gryffindor,” she told him, “Not because it’s the ‘cool’ House - all the Houses have good points and bad points, shouldn’t judge them on their occupants - but because whenever it comes to thrill-seeking… Man, I love the rush, but it scares me. And yet I do it anyway. And that’s what being a Gryffindor is about, doing the things you’re scared of, despite the fear. Reasonably, I mean. But, also, I’ve got traits from other Houses, too; anyone above the age of eleven is going to have more than just two characteristics, but Gryffindor is the House I identify with the most.”

Edward looked enraptured as she talked, following along the words as if she were speaking a sermon to a religious person. He mostly stared directly into her eyes, but she saw him tracing her face as well, following her hands as she flung them about as she talked. If he was going to stare at her hands a lot, she’d have to stop biting her nails…

“Going off that description, I’d say I’m a Gryffindor as well,” Edward confessed, and Clara felt that there was deeper meaning in there somewhere that she couldn’t discern. 

Clara smiled at him, softer this time, though she didn’t understand why. Whatever Edward was being courageous about, she hoped he succeeded. Feeling pensive, she took a sip of her water, and bit her lip. Edward’s brow furrowed just the slightest bit to become visible.

“What are you thinking of now?” he asked, sounding as if she were a massive puzzle he was missing pieces to. 

Clara looked him dead in the eye. “If you plan on being a jackass again, ever, do tell me before hand. It helps with the process.”

Edward looked saddened, but strangely serious as well. Clara hoped it wasn’t much to ask.

“I promise,” he swore. “But do not be surprised if it happens.”

Clara sighed, lolling her head back to stare at the ceiling. “And you were doing so well… Fine, I get it.”

“Do you, though?” he questioned, as if trying to make sure.

Make sure of what, though? What on Earth could he be trying to say by telling her he was dangerous? For fucks’ sake, she knew that!

“You’re dangerous,” Clara told him, leaning her head up and leaning forward into his space; Edward leaned back. She moved away. “But the fact that you’re trying to warn me away tells me that you’ve got something going for you. And,” she grinned roguishly. “I did tell you I like dangerous things.”

The two of them sat in silence together, staring at each other as if they were staring into the stars. Clara felt like she was, she felt like there were endless amounts of stars in Edward that she would never see, or only ever catch fleeting echoes of in the same way that the stars in the sky were already dead. 

She didn’t realize until sudden spacial awareness slammed into her that, not only were they seated very close together, they were the only ones left in the cafeteria. 

“Fuck,” she groaned. “We’re going to be late.”

“I’m not going to class today,” Edward said, studying the edges of her sleeves as she stood and shook the numbness out of her legs. Even the goth kids had left, and they were always late to class.

“Yeah?” Clara said, remembering how she used to skip class in her last life.

“It’s healthy to ditch class now and then,” he said, looking troubled.

“I feel you,” Clara nodded, as her stomach lurched in longing to walk away from the school with him. She had a bad habit of letting herself skip and skip and skip until authorities came knocking, though, and she wasn’t going back to that habit any time soon. “I’ve got a test in Algebra today, though, so I’m going. Maybe I’ll join you another time.”

“I’ll see you later then,” Edward said, but less like a suggestion and more like a promise. 

And then Clara ran from the cafeteria, bag swung onto her back and bouncing as she ran. When she slammed into Mr. Varner’s room, he paused in the middle of his sentence to glare at her.

“Kind of you to join us, Miss Swan,” he snipped, eyes narrow and lips downturned.

Clara, breathing a bit hard from the sudden sprint across the campus, just gave him a salute and went to collapse in her seat next to Angela. Angela kindly let her copy the notes she missed while talking with Edward, before whispering to her softly, not even moving her face towards her. Mr. Varner did not appreciate inattention, after all.

“What did Edward want?” she asked, and Clara felt warmth in her chest at the sound of concern in her old love’s voice.

“He wants to be friends,” Clara told her easily, but did not say a word about the whole maybe-date thing. Forks created its own gossip easily enough, it didn’t need her help with that.

“Well, he doesn’t appear to be the only Cullen interested in you,” Angela said, eyes flicked meaningfully across the room. 

Clara followed her line of sight across the room to lock eyes with the shortest Cullen. Alice’s eyes were bright golden today, and she was grinning at Clara like she had made the funniest joke ever. When she saw that Clara had seen her, she giggled silently, and waved. Carefully, Clara waved back and swung her eyes back to her notebook.

“Well, shit, ain’t I popular,” she mumbled, making Angela burst into giggles. 

Mr. Varner instantly descended on the two of them with glares, commanding silence. With insincerely apologetic looks, the two went back to their note-taking in silence before the test was handed out and notes were put away. 

The rest of the day went simply enough, Clara found herself gaining a near-bloody nose from an elbow to the face in gym, but it was all good. Mike even told her that there was a trip to La Push, First Beach, going on Saturday, and said he had room in his car for her. Gratefully, she accepted it, but only at the insistence that he remember they were just friends. Though he appeared disappointed, he agreed. 

Clara didn’t see Edward in the parking lot after school, she was quick to get in her truck and drive away. She wanted to get home, finish her homework, and  _ sleep for eternity. _ Lately, that and talking to Edward seemed to be the only things Clara  _ did _ want to do. She entertained the thought of seasonal depression through the drive and while doing her homework at home.

It was a possibility that she was still depression. It  _ was _ a psychological thing, but it also dealt with brain function and serotonin and how it was taken into the brain. Could such things follow her into the afterlife and new life?

Either way, she would play it safe. She would try to get ahold of it before it became bad. In her last life, she hadn’t had that bad of depression, just enough to interfere with her life, and when she didn’t ask for help, it got so bad that she’d tried to kill herself when she found no other option. She’d deal with it before it would come to that again. 

That is, after this nap.

 

* * *

 

 

When Clara woke up, it was much darker than what she was used to waking up to when fucking up her sleeping pattern. She must have slept even longer than usual this time. Her body felt uncomfortably sweaty and warm under her blanket, so as soon as her eyes began to flutter open, she threw her blanket off and rolled out of bed, landing on the floor with a thump.

And then she remembered what had happened the night before.

“Shit,” she whispered, sitting up so quickly that stars danced in front of her eyes. “Edward?”

There was no one else in the room, and the window was shut. Clara closed her eyes and rubbed the sleep away from them. He must have taken her words to heart, which was good, but she felt a bit disappointed that he wasn’t sitting at her desk -

_ Tap-tap-tap _ .

Clara’s eyes shot up, hand halfway through pulling her hair out of her face, fingers tangled in it. From where she was on her ass on the floor by her bed, she could see just over the bed and to the window. A window that no longer showed the scenery of forests that surrounded the area Charlie lived in, but instead showed a grinning, beautiful boy.

_ He took my words  _ really _ to heart _ , she thought.

Even as she stumbled to the window and opened it, motioning for the boy to climb inside her room, she wondered how the hell he’d gotten up there. Had he been waiting outside her window the entire night, hoping she would call for him? Did he not sleep? And for the record, how had he heard her? She knew he wasn’t human, but it was shocking to have it so very in-her-face.

“You called?” Edward asked, settling into her rolley chair with ease. 

His face was set in a friendly grin, but his eyes were dark. Clara wondered what was wrong, what caused him to look like that. She didn’t like it when Edward was sad, but the fact that he was even in the room made her steps lighter. Shit.

“It was nothing,” she insisted, waving her hand. “You can stay here if you want, I’ve got to shower. I’m all gross.”

“If you’re sure,” he said reproachfully, as if he wanted her to demand he leave.

“I’m sure,” she said, walking out of her bedroom into the silent house. Down the hall, Charlie snored loudly.

When she stepped into the bathroom and began stripping, though, she realized all she’d been wearing was a crop top and booty shorts. She wondered if she’d made Edward uncomfortable in her state of undress, if that was why his eyes were dark with angst. 

_ Why do I even care? _ she questioned herself.

It was a stupid question, though. She knew why. She, itty-bitty Clara Swan, had a not-so-itty-bitty crush on Edward Cullen. One that she refused to think about in case this friendship didn’t work out.

When she redressed, towelling her hair dry and walking back to the room, she pulled a sweatshirt she’d stolen from Charlie on over her sleeping clothes. The grey material was too large for her, halfway down her thighs, with the word  _ Forks Police Department _ on the front of it, a badge on the back. 

Edward was waiting for her, and she climbed onto her bed and and put a pillow in her lap, leaning against the headboard. They simply stared at each other for a good five minutes, silence in the room. It wasn’t awkward silence, per say, but nonetheless, Clara wanted to break it.

“Did you know that coca-cola products were designed to taste better warm compared to pepsi products?” she blurted out.

Edward tilted his head to the side, regarding her with curious eyes that were just a smidge lighter. “Yes, I did know that. It’s quite interesting, but expected when you take into account the time period coca-cola was created. There weren’t common refrigerators back then.”

“But a lot of crack,” Clara mumbled, inciting a laugh from Edward.

Normally, if she didn’t have homework to do, Clara would surf the internet, trying to find a semblance of the communities she’d had in her past life. Of course, internet trends were quite different now, and she found herself increasingly irritated by the current ones compared to future ones. They just seemed to silly and embarrassing now that she knew better.

With Edward in the room, she struggled to find something to do. This was much different from sitting next to each other in class, or even sharing a table at lunch. Those were times where they saw each other anyways - this was quite like bringing a new friend home for the first time, where you had no idea what would interest them as you realized your daily life wasn’t very exciting. 

Edward, thankfully, seemed to know how to start a conversation. “Tell me about your family. Your mother.”

Clara hummed, relaxing her shoulders. She hadn’t realized they were tensed.

“Renée…” she began. “Renée is like a 21-year-old stuck in an older woman’s body. She’s eccentric, she always wants to try new things. When I left for Forks, she was in her yoga phase - her gym phase was where she met Phil, actually, her new husband. She’s forgetful, but she’s extremely kindhearted. Sometimes she feels less like my mother and more like a sister. We look similar, but Renée has different coloring. She also  _ hates _ the cold and wet - she’s at her happiest somewhere warm, dry, and sunny. I love her.”

Edward sounded fascinated. “How old are you, Clara?”

Clara blinked, wondering how to answer. “Seventeen?”

That’s what she was  _ supposed _ to say, right? Not her cumulative age of 33, right? But if Edward had a secret that he could at least trust her not to say anything with, could she tell him her biggest secret? Clara dithered, it would have been much easier if her reincarnation hadn’t also involved time-travel. (And maybe dimensional travel, based on the existence of whatever-Edward-Cullen-was.)

“You don’t sound seventeen,” Edward said, and he sounded very frustrated. He had caught her hesitance. 

“Renée says I’m an ‘old soul’,” Clara told him, still wondering about the truth. “It’s all good, though. I’m chill. You seem like an old soul as well, you know.”

Edward grimaced, like she had said something particularly unpleasant, and changed topics. “Why did Renée marry Phil?”  
Clara shrugged, “Because she loves him. He makes her happy.”

“Do you approve?”

“Yeah, I mean, Phil’s an awesome guy,” Clara explained, scratching her nose and flicking a lock of wet hair out of her face. “Besides, even if I didn’t, it’s not my place to try and fuck with their relationship. That’s a no-no.”

Edward seemed amazed at Clara, and even thoughtful. “Do you think she would give you the same courtesy? No matter who you chose?”

Clara stared at him in confusion. His face was serious, eyes intently staring into her own. She felt like she was treading water with a shark and felt her heart skip a beat and her stomach flip at the intensity of the situation. She pushed onwards.

“That’s the thing about parents, Eddie-boy,” she rolled her shoulders and gave him a cocky smile. “There comes a time where, no matter their opinion on it, parents let their kids make their choices themselves. And the parents are happy for them, because their child is happy. I could become a drug-dealer, and I think that though Renée would disapprove, as long as I was happy she would be, too.”

He seemed to drink in her words like honey, savoring them. “That’s incredibly insightful of you.”

Clara shrugged, feeling a self-depreciating blush adorn her cheeks. “Well, I guess…”

It was something she had learned after nearly a year of therapy in her last life, of her last parents assuring her that whatever path she chose, if it made her happy and not ready to kill herself, they were happy, too. And, if you watched and listened, read enough, you noticed that it became a pattern in people who were compassionate, who thought about people’s feelings. This didn’t necessarily mean parents on the whole, but the majority of parents did indeed care for their children’s feelings.

(She carefully chose not to delve into abusive territory and how just because parents cared didn’t mean they were doing the right thing.)

“Tell me about you,” she said suddenly, wanting to change the topic. “What’s your family like? You guys seem to be close.”

Instantly, Edward was on guard. She knew why, too, and rolled her eyes as he said, “What do you want to know?”

“Jesus, Edward,” she grumbled. “I’m not asking for life-changing secrets here.”

He shrugged his shoulders, fingers tapping on the chair; he was sitting in it backwards, leaning into the backrest with his chest. “Well… Alice likes fashion…”

Clara nodded along slowly, “Yes…?”  
“She’s _really_ into fashion,” Edward said, easing into this territory like a man entering dangerous waters. “She follows many designers.”

Clara let him talk, listening to him as he slowly but surely talked about his family. Apparently, Alice liked to pick out the clothes Edward wore, but he usually put his foot down. Rosalie liked cars, Emmett liked video games, Jasper liked history, Dr. Cullen liked reading, and Mrs. Cullen like interior design. As he talked, telling little anecdotes of interactions, very obviously editing situations to make them more human, he relaxed more. To keep him such, Clara threw in stories of her own.

“This one time, when Bella and I were in fourth grade,” Clara began with a nostalgic grin, “We decided to try and capture a rattlesnake and keep it as a pet. It didn’t go well,” she laughed, and Edward’s face twisted into a mockery of a smile, as if wondering how stupid she must have been. “Hey, don’t look at me like that, it was Bella’s idea. Well, kind-of. Either way, I’ve got a cool scar now on my ankle.”

She stuck out her leg to show off the jagged scar on her right ankle, where the rattlesnake had bitten her. Good times.

The night continued on as such, and Clara could practically picture the interactions Edward told her of. The love he held for his family was as obvious to her as his inhumanity. Fascinating and beautiful. 

It was around five AM that Edward insisted he had to leave. 

“See you tomorrow, then,” Clara sighed. 

Edward paused, and seemed to debate with himself. “Actually, Emmett and I are starting the weekend early, so I won’t see you until Monday.”

Clara felt her heart pang. “Ooh, what will you guys be doing?”

“Hiking,” he supplied easily, like he said it in the mirror for practice. “In Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier.”

Clara wondered if that was the truth. “I hope you guys have lots of fun. Watch out for bears.”

Edward laughed, eyes bright and finding humor in her statement that she couldn’t understand. “We’ll definitely keep an eye out. Try not to get into trouble yourself - no rattlesnakes.”

Clara grinned and said, “No promises. Now get going.”

As she closed the window behind him - watching him disappear into thin air, really - she realized that she had really wanted him to stay. 

Fuck she had it bad.

 

* * *

 

Later that morning, she asked Charlie about Goat Rocks. 

“Yeah, it’s a good place for hunting season,” he told her. “Lots of bears. Some guys from La Push and I go up there every few years - we went up last year, but couldn’t find any. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Clara feigned her chill. “Saw it in a brochure at the airport. Slipped my mind to ask until now.”

Charlie left a little while after that, and as Clara drove to school, she found herself contemplating Edward’s laughter at her warning. His statement. What were he and Emmett doing up in Goat Rocks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter Friday, May 6th, 2016, 10AM PST-USA time!!! Hopefully...


	6. Chapter Five

Friday was full of plans for Saturday, the entire time Clara was dodging questions about the Cullens. True to Edward’s words, Emmett and he were not in attendance. There was one point where Lauren Mallory made a snide comment about Clara and Edward, to which Mike backed her up. But when Lauren tried to walk away, Clara grabbed her elbow.

“Hey Lauren,” she smiled brightly. “Sorry that not everyone can be tricked into thinking you’re an angel. So sorry.”

Lauren flushed in anger, and opened her mouth to retort, but Clara wasn’t finished.

“It’s fine, though,” Clara stretched her smile to show as many teeth as she could, eyes wide and grip tight on Lauren’s elbow. Lauren’s jaw shut with an audible click. “I  _ forgive _ you. I hope  _ we _ can be friends.”

The contrast between her words, her tone, and her facial expression scared the shit out of Lauren, she could tell that. Her already pale skin had blanched Cullen-white, or near it, and she ran away the moment Clara let her elbow go. Clara watched her leave with the smile still on her face, and it was only when Mike hesitantly put his hand on her shoulder that it disappeared to a blank face and narrowed eyes. 

“That…” Mike started, and paused. “That was a bit much, Clara.”

Clara turned to look at him with her blank face. “No, it wasn’t. Lauren can’t get away with acting like a child. She’s nearly an adult.”

And with that she walked away, but deep in her own mind she was scared of herself. The lengths that she could go to always scared her, but she rarely indulged in her more ruthless tendencies. Some called her cold-hearted, and sometimes she was one of those people who did. 

In Algebra, Alice Cullen had moved from across the room to sitting next to Clara and Angela, grinning at the two and giggling at their jokes, even when they were as quiet as possible. Yet, the inhumanely beautiful girl never directly talked to either of them - and Mr. Varner didn’t seem to have a problem with the seating change, despite his irritable mood.

The day passed quietly aside from there, and when Clara got home she and Charlie talked enthusiastically about the trip. Charlie hadn’t been home on weekends recently, so he seemed happy to see that she was making friends who would go out with her to La Push. 

That night, Edward did not visit. She slept fitfully and woke up with a headache and the sun shining uncomfortably in her eyes. The weatherman was right, for once, and as her head throbbed at the sunlight, Clara cursed him silently. 

She rolled out of bed willingly, though, and went about her morning routine, adding in some Advil. Clara decided to dress for the beach, wearing high-waisted shorts and a NASA tee she’d turned into a crop top with the sleeves rolled up. She didn’t wear flip-flops, but slip on black shoes, her hair loose to hang down her back. She packed a simple bag with sunscreen, deodorant, a small towel, and a frisbee. 

Charlie was already gone for the day, so she simply headed out to Newtons’ Olympic Outfitters, where the group was supposed to be meeting. When she got there, it was quite clear where her friends were, milling around Tyler and Mike’s vans. Eric, Angela’s crush Ben, and some other kid had showed up, as well as three other girls Clara couldn’t remember the names of. 

With her bag slung over her shoulder, Clara hopped out of the cab of her truck with a bright grin, waving. Lauren glared at her, but turned away. Mike practically bounded up to her like a puppy, making Clara laugh and high-five him.

“You came!” Mike sounded delighted as they walked back to the group. “And I said it would be sunny today, didn’t I?”

“It really is,” Clara glared lightly up at the offending star, but smiled. “It’s actually pretty warm, too.”

“I know, right?” Mike grinned, and Clara couldn’t help but grin back at him. “We’re just waiting for Lee and Samantha, now… Unless you invited someone.”

“Nah, I didn’t,” Clara said truthfully. She knew the opinion people had in La Push about the Cullens, so she didn’t think it wise to invite Edward at all.

It turned out when Lee got there, driving a mini-van, he’d brought two extra people, so everyone was squeezed in together in every seat. Clara practically had Angela sitting in her lap, which incited a few giggles from the two remembering the past. 

When the three cars finally arrived at First Beach, Clara was one of the first out, breathing in the sea-salt air and eyes lightening up at the sight of the beach. La Push beaches only ever had a thin line of sand before turning into a layer of rocks that, from a distance, looked gray; when you looked up close, though, they were every color imaginable. The water was gray with frothy white tips, seagulls and pelicans circling, driftwood everywhere, and the cliffs that framed the beach were as beautiful as she remembered.

Clara burst into happy laughter, feeling as at home as she did with Charlie, pulling Angela and Jessica along as she ran to the area most parties were held on this beach, a circle of driftwood for seating. Some boys gathered extras and lit a bonfire. 

Staring out past the green and blue flames to look at the sea, Clara felt as happy as she did when seated next to Edward. 

The group quickly split into two, Clara and Mike heading the pro-hiking portion while Lauren headed the ‘nah bitch’ portion. The pro-hiking group included most of the boys, Clara, and Jessica, who had followed to try and keep Mike’s attention. Clara wished her luck, the boy was as flighty as a fly.

The hike was small and through the forest, which was bright green and ominous, hiding the sun from view. After meeting the Cullens, knowing that there were creatures out there not human, hiding in plain sight… Clara felt a bit of trepidation and watched her feet carefully.

The tide-pools the group had gone searching for were as captivating as usual. Clara wished Bella were here to see the pools she loved, but contented herself to perching precariously on the edges of pools, laughing as some of the boys shoved each other into the shallow waters. It seemed like no time had passed at all until all their stomachs were rumbling with hunger and the group began the trek back to the main party.

When they arrived back, some kids from the reservation had joined the party.

“Jacob!” Clara shouted, running forward and kicking sand up behind her. 

The fifteen-year-old boy looked up from his place sitting on driftwood, eating a hotdog, with a grin. When she threw himself at the boy, he easily caught her in a hug.

“Hey Clara,” Embry called from a little ways away, inciting greetings from the other kids she knew from hanging about with Jacob. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going great!” Clara said breathlessly.

She was really enjoying herself today, surrounded by friends and the smell of the ocean everywhere. 

Lauren, of course, had to go and ruin everything per usual. “You know these guys, Clara?”

With a sigh, Clara rolled her eyes at Lauren, trying to keep her good mood in place. “I don’t know, Lauren, it’s almost like I’ve been visiting every summer since I was born. Wild.”

Lauren flushed pink and ‘hmphed’ at her, which Clara decidedly ignored. “You know, Clara, I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn’t anyone think to invite them?”

_ Why would she ask that? _ Clara groaned, and watched as one of the La Push gang members, maybe the leader himself, looked up. Sam something-or-another.

“You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen’s family?” he said, and Clara shivered. Yeah, that kid was on steroids, he had to be.

“Yes, do you know them?” Lauren asked, a sweet saccharine tone in her voice.

“The Cullens,” Sam said their name like it was something foul in his mouth, “don’t come here.”

And like that, the conversation topic changed, but something niggled at Clara. Something she had heard from Billy but could barely remember because she’d been a bit distracted by high school beginning. And she couldn’t escape the feeling that it was important. 

“Hey, Jake,” she said quietly. “Wanna go for a walk?”

Jacob was someone who had known her all her life, he knew when she needed to talk to him alone. He got up out of his seat and the two of them walked away from the group quietly. Clara knew that Lauren would notice their exit, but hoped that she would just think them flirting or something.

As they walked, Clara questioned Jacob on what had happened in the past week since she’d last seen him. Not much had, he was looking for something for his VW, and had grown another couple of inches. She had already noticed, having to crane her head back to look him in the eyes. 

When they were far away enough that the others were just blibs in the distance, Clara turned to him. 

“What’s the deal with the Cullens, again?” she asked quietly. “I remember Billy saying something about them, but it was a long time ago.”

Jacob nodded in understanding, and glanced around to see if anyone were listening. “Remember, Clara, you’re not supposed know this stuff. You didn’t hear it from me.”

Clara nodded solemnly, crossing her heart. “You got it, boss.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence before Jacob burst into laughter. Clara would have, but the seriousness of why she was asking made it an actual promise that she wouldn’t reveal him as her informant.

“Well,” Jacob started, rubbing his chin as they walked, kicking a rock. “There’s a lot of stories about where the Quileutes came from. The one with the canoes tied to mountains, the ones that we’re descended from wolves, you know. But the only ones that matter right now seem to be about the Cold Ones.”

God that sounded familiar, but for the life of her, Clara couldn’t remember what Billy had said. She let Jacob continue.

“According to legend, my great-grandfather knew some of them,” Jacob shrugged. “Keep in mind, legends about the Cold Ones are even older than the ones about our ancestors. Anyways, my great-grandpa was a tribal elder, like my dad, and was the one to make the treaty with the Cold Ones. The Cold Ones are the natural enemies of the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves.”

Well shit if she didn’t recognize that. “Werewolves’ only enemies are vampires. All the story books say that.”

Jacob nodded, “Yeah. There was this pack of them that came to our territory during my great-grandfather’s time, but they were different. They didn’t feed like the others of their kind, which supposedly made them less dangerous. So they made a truce, as long as the Cold Ones stayed off our land, we didn’t let you white people lose your heads over them.”

Clara snorted, but her humor was quickly dwindling. “What did you mean by them not feeding like others?”

Jacob ran a hand through his hand, and ruined his ponytail. As he put his glossy black hair into a bun instead, like the ones she usually wore, he explained. “They didn’t hunt humans - they hunted animals. It’s supposed to make them civilized, but, well, you never know what could happen when they get hungry.”

“And that’s what the tribe thinks the Cullens are? Vampires?”

“Not just any vampires,” Jacob confessed. “The same ones from the stories. Hell, they knew about Carlisle before my great-grandfather’s time. Since the treaty they’ve got two new members, but yeah, everyone’s gone crazy about it.”

Clara stared out at the ocean, where the grey sea water met the clouds and turned indescribable. It fit. Vampires were supposed to be supernaturally beautiful, strong, fast… Exactly like Edward. And she would bet her life on the idea that the rest of his family was the same. 

The only question was, what did she want to do with this information?

“This is the second time you and your dad have broken the treaty,” she suddenly grinned, feigning laughter. “You criminals.”

Jacob threw his arm over her shoulder, and she could see in his face that he saw past the act. Stupid kid, she thought fondly.

“You don’t actually believe the stories, do you?” he questioned, a worried look in his eyes. “I don’t need  _ more _ crazy people around.”

Clara laughed weakly, patting his shoulder. “I can’t say.”

Because that was the truth. She’d promised Edward and Dr. Cullen the day of the car accident that she wouldn’t tell, that secrets were secrets. And she had enough experience with keeping them that she didn’t even hesitate to deny Jacob the truth, the same way she never hesitated to pretend to learn in school when really all she was doing was going through the motions. 

Secrets really sucked.

 

* * *

 

The group left when it began to rain and Clara said goodbye to Jacob until the next weekend. His hug lasted a moment longer than polite between friends, but they were more siblings than friends, and he somehow knew that she was thinking much too hard. Clara curled up in the back with Angela and Ben, both of which were happy to put their arms around her. Clara decided that she really liked Ben, and if there were ever a polyamorous relationship she’d want in on, it’d be with him and Angela, because they were damn good cuddlers as she feigned sleep. (It helped that Ben didn’t try to cop a feel the way she knew Tyler would.)

It was barely sunset when she was dropped off at her house, Angela gently shaking her ‘awake’. Charlie was watching a sports game on the TV, so she tried to distract herself by joining him. 

It made Charlie happy enough, but by the time Clara went to get ready for bed, she was still stuck on the whole ‘Cullens are vampires’ thing. The level of thought she had to put into it almost disgusted her; Clara had been reborn, goddammit, and over a decade before her original birth as well! She should be equipped to deal with this?

She didn’t sleep well that night, waking up groaning and multiple times throughout the night. When the sun rose, Clara decided to say fuck it and put on sweatpants, sneakers, and a sweatshirt, decided to take a run through the forest. It was always something she had done when her thoughts proved too much to handle, and had happened a lot right after Bella’s accident.

Inside the forest, cut off from direct sunlight and surrounded by the sounds of nature, in a place that could so easily be twisted into magical in her mind, Clara found it much easier to contemplate everything. She kept her pace steady, ponytail swinging behind her, and just  _ thought _ . Her thoughts were disjointed and jumped from place to place like a child on a sugar high.

_ Edward wasn’t just risking himself. He was risking his family. _

_ Why her? Was there something about her that he could tell was different? Did reincarnations smell more...appealing than non-reincarnated humans? _

_ The eyes! She’d always heard that vampires had red eyes, but then, she’d always heard vampires only drank human blood. Were the gold eyes because of animal blood? _

_ If she was right… _

If she was right.

Clara decided then and there, that if he could trust her with his greatest secret, she could trust him with hers. Even if he ended up telling his family, because she would know the truth about them as well. 

_ But hey _ , she reminded herself as she swung around and began her trek back to the house.  _ I could be completely wrong. Edward could be a witch. _

And didn’t that make her laugh into the air, as she noticed it had begun to rain and she was getting soaked. When did the  _ Sundown Saga _ come out again? The book had been her favorite, but very controversial in it’s relationship portrayal, with Faeries and Witches in it.

When she arrived back at the house, Charlie was up and about, cooking breakfast. It was pouring and she shook herself off like a dog with a grin when she stepped under the porch roof. 

Life just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

 

* * *

 

The next day, the Cullens weren’t at school. While the absence hadn’t bothered her at First Beach, surrounded by the beautiful things and people she had grown up with, being suddenly forced to go through the monotonous drivel that was Public High School with the beautiful enigma that was Edward left a bitter taste in her mouth. She tried to keep her spirits up by chatting with Angela and Jessica about a maybe-trip to Port Angeles to find dresses for the dance.

However, this backfired, because thinking about the dance made Bella think about the deal she and Edward made, which made her think about Edward, which made her think about how he wasn’t there… You get the picture. Instead, she forced herself to talk with Eric about their English essay over  _ Macbeth _ , which she still hadn’t read. It was due in two days. 

To distract herself, as soon as class let out and she got home, she emailed Renée and threw herself into Macbeth. Jessica called at one point, where time no longer mattered but coffee did, to tell her that their shopping plans would have to be rescheduled for the next day. Mike had asked her to dinner. 

Clara didn’t sleep that night, reading Shakespeare and furiously brainstorming essay topics. She finished the play around three in the morning and wrote an outline for her essay by six, at which she made herself shower in cold water to wake herself up and dress in comfy clothes. The essay was going to be about the linguistics involved in Shakespeare’s writing, how it was influenced by women primarily and the trends that followed it. She hoped it impressed Mr. Mason enough that he gave her a passing grade in the class.

When she arrived at school with a thermos full of espresso and three energy drinks in her backpack, she was highly disappointed to see that the Cullens were not in attendance  _ again _ . In her sleep deprived state, she had to reason herself out of crying over it. 

She didn’t pay attention in many classes that day, writing her essay and revising it and giving it to one of her friends to revise it. By fifth period, the coffee and energy drinks left a taste of vomit in her mouth and she stopped by the bathroom regularly to splash water on her face. When she thought that she had a good final rough draft, she left it in a folder for final revision later. 

Jessica followed her home after class let out, so that she could drop off her books and grab a few more energy drinks for the outing. Clara had all the windows rolled down to make sure she stayed awake, causing Jessica to snicker at her bad luck. 

“You know,” she said as they pulled up to Angela’s. “You could have slept last night.”

Clara shook her head determinedly. “Sleep is for the weak, Jessica. Weaklings don’t pass English.”

Jessica laughed, and after Angela got into the car, quickly drove off. Clara realized quite belatedly that she hadn’t informed Charlie where she was going, pulling out her ‘awesome’ pink razr phone and left a voicemail on the home phone and his office phone. 

The entire car ride there, Jessica continued to prattle on about her date with Mike and how she hoped to progress to first-kiss-stage by Saturday. Clara wished her luck, sharing a grin with Angela. She was, thankfully, going to the dance with Ben at Clara’s insistence. Clara didn’t inform them of her deal with Edward, though she was pretty sure by now that she would be going with him no matter what. 

They were able to arrive by four, and Clara found that Port Angeles was just as tourist-pretty as it had been in January, less spread-out-yet-sparse than Forks. She found it nice, in a sort of ‘downtown’ way. The trio went straight towards the mall there, parking as close to the doors as possible. 

The dance, Clara knew, was supposed to be ‘semi-formal’ but Clara had enough experience with dances in general to know that anything that wasn’t prom could have everything from full-out sparkly gowns and tuxedos to simple sundresses and a nice button-down shirt. Angela and Jess weren’t as convinced, even when she explained that she’d been to many dances in Phoenix.

Jess grinned, “Ooh, how many boys have you gone through?”

Clara laughed, eyes bright and took a swig of her energy drink and grimaced at the gross after-taste. Angela caught her eye with a glimmer of mirth. “Only one. I always went alone.”

The short girl was taken aback, “What? Didn’t anyone ask you?” When Clara simply shrugged, she grew more confused. “People ask you here and you say no.”

“Except for Tyler,” Angela added, scanning the racks in the juniors section of a the store they were in.

“The shit?” Clara questioned.

“Tyler told everyone he’s taking you to prom,” Jess told her, and Clara was hurt to see suspicion in her eyes.

“That fucker,” Clara groaned, not really feeling her anger. She’d feel her anger tomorrow. “I’m gonna fight him.”

Angela rolled her eyes, used to such a saying, but Jess gaped. “Told you it wasn’t true, Jessica.”

Jess took to this new piece of gossip like a hound to a rare steak. “That’s why Lauren doesn’t like you! Oh my gosh, this is hilarious.”

“I’m gonna fight that idiot,” Clara grumbled as she sifted through clothes with one hand, a scowl on her face.

The three split up then to find dresses. Jess, after some deliberation, chose a knee-length, spaghetti-strapped, electric-blue dress that brought out her eyes; Angela chose a pale-pink gown that framed her nicely; Clara ended up with a pastel-green, sleeveless dress with an open back that was tight at the bodice, but the skirt flowed outward and twirled with fake-petticoats. It reached just above her knees and had a lace pattern all over it, complimenting the red-shades in her hair nicely and bringing attention to her freckles and brown eyes.

After picking those out, they went for accessories and shoes. Jessica picked out shoes in five seconds, moving on to the jewelry. Angela was debating whether or not to wear heels; she was taller than Ben and always worried about being over six foot  _ without  _ heels. Clara encouraged her to find shoes she thought looked good with the dress and not worry about another’s opinion, but it didn’t seem to help much.

Clara, disgusted with her current height of 5’6”, searched for stilettos. After trying on six different pairs, she found ones she liked. They were five inch heels, bringing her back to her old height of 5’11”, white platform stilettos with a strap around the ankle for stability, but not too bright that they would draw attention away from her dress. Truthfully, she hadn’t found heels she’d liked as much as she liked these in quite a while.

After Angela chose her pink kitten-heel shoes, they went to find Jessica, who was fawning over some rhinestone jewelry. Clara tried to imagine her dress with jewelry, and ended up getting a simple, thin silver bracelet with fake emeralds and diamonds in the delicate loops. She helped Angela pick out gold-colored earrings and the trio went to buy their things.

Jessica and Angela wanted to go to the Bay after dropping their things off in the car, but Clara said she’d wanted to go to the bookstore they’d passed on the way. It was some kind of New Age-y type of deal, she recalled, just the kind of place she could chill out and browse. The two offered to go with her, but after a description of the bookstore was given, Clara could see the distaste in Jess’ eyes. 

“Go on without me,” Clara waved, opening up her third energy drink with a grimace. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant.”

“If you’re sure,” Angela said, hesitant to leave Clara alone in such a sleep-deprived state.

“Yeah, go have fun,” Clara waved, already beginning to walk away.

The bookstore was awesome, run by a kind old lady with long, gray hair who talked to Clara for twenty minutes on about meditation, which was something that Clara sometimes indulged in for the peace of mind and body it gave her. The discussed the merits of home remedies versus modern medicine for a little while before Clara went off to browse, finding herself absorbed in books on Astrology and Divination. 

Telling the future was always something she’d found fascinating, though she’d never found herself very good at it. Until she encountered someone who  _ was _ able to do so, she’d keep her faith that there  _ was _ someone who could tell the future. Tarot cards were fucking cool, too. 

Eventually she left the shop with some incense and a little wooden plate to burn it on. She’d gotten two kinds, Calming Vanilla and Sea Breeze. From what she could smell of the sticks, they were sweet and soft, just the way she liked her candles. Clara promised herself that she’d come back to this bookstore when she could. The old lady introduced herself as Florence, and Clara was not keen to make an old lady sad by never coming back.

When she left, though, the sun was barely beginning to set. Drinking her last energy drink, Clara set off to find the Italian restaurant she and her friends had agreed to meet at.  _ Bella Italia _ , she thought it was called.

_ But of course _ , Clara groaned to herself thirty minutes later in a deserted, sketchy part of Port Angeles.  _ I had to get fucking lost. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello from May 4th. Preemptively saving drafts for chapters, this laptop is disappearing from me on the 18th at the earliest. Next chapter Wednesday, May 11th, 2016, 10AM PST-USA time.


	7. Chapter Six

Wandering out Port Angeles was as confusing as wandering a maze. You could figure it out, given enough time, but on the first try you just got fucking lost. Which is how Clara found herself wandering in a very run-down part of the city, tense and a bit frightened, hand in her pockets with her keys between her fingers. Her eyes scanned buildings, searching desperately for  _ Bella Italia _ , did not notice the group of men until they were too close to reasonably justify turning around.

But, as Clara caught sight of the four men who did not look very kind, she didn’t really  _ need _ justification. The fact that rape ever even happened in the first place was enough justification for her. So she turned, crossed the empty street, and headed in the opposite direction of the men. 

When she looked back, though, scared out her mind, two men from the group were following her. She tried to remind herself that they might not be following her, but she knew it was unlikely. 

She got out her phone - and realized she didn’t have Jessica’s number. She called Angela instead, but got voicemail. Fighting back panic, she spoke into the receiver as if Angela had picked up, her voice sounding as normal as possible.

“Hey, where was the restaurant? I’m lost as shit,” she said, carefully distributing her keys between her fingers, making sure her thumb was not trapped in her fist. “Well, yeah, I know the name. Just give me directions. The place I’m in is skeevy as fuck.”

Glancing in a shop window as she passed, the two men had fallen back a bit but were still there. Shit.

As she talked a fake conversation, Clara walked towards light and sound, taking corners at random and hoping to get the two off her tail. They continued to follow, though, and when she began walking down an even darker street she knew she had to take preemptive measures. And God did she hope it worked.

But when she turned her next corner, into a walled off alley which at the other side showed the tourist-area, she realized that all the turns she’d thought were escapes were actually made to herd her to where the other two men were waiting. 

As she walked, she pulled her phone from her ear, quitting her ‘conversation’ mid-sentence, and dialed.

“ _ 911, what’s your emergency? _ ”

“Hi!” Clara exclaimed loudly. “I have no idea where in Port Angeles I am, it’s dark out, and am currently surrounded by four men who look very happy at the situation.”

One of the men, tall and dark haired, stepped forward into her space, ripping the phone from her hand, dropping it and stepping on it with a decisive crunch. Fuck. Clara felt her heart skip at least three beats as she danced away from the man, knees bent and arms loose, her ‘shank’ at the ready. 

“Come on now, sugar,” said one of the men with buck-teeth. “We don’t mean any harm. We just want to have some fun.”

“Yeah, and I’m going to have some fun stabbing you in the eyes, dickface,” Clara spit, adrenaline pumping; she heard tires screeching but didn’t have the time to look, one of them was in her space again and she was ducking his arms and stabbing her keys straight into his crotch.

The man screamed and headlights lit up the scene like a spotlight. A silver car spun into the alley, clipping one of the men who screamed and clutched his arm. Clara yanked her keys down, causing the dark-haired one she’d stabbed to scream high pitched, pulled her keys out and dove into the road. Either the car was going to stop or she was going to get hit, and either way it would get her out of this situation.

Suddenly, the car fishtailed and spun to a stop; it was a Volvo. One of the men made to grab Clara, so she grabbed as many of his fingers as she could and  _ twisted _ . The snap of bones and his gasp of pain filled her with a dangerous sort of satisfaction. 

The door on the passenger side of the car swung open, only a foot away.

“Get in,” a very familiar voice commanded, low and rumbling like thunder.

Clara threw herself into the passenger side, but not before kicking one of the men in the groin. The car was dark, the glow of headlights on the dashboard only just enough for her to see the murderous expression on Edward’s face. She wondered what she looked like, in that moment, to him. When she slammed the door shut and grabbed her seat belt, he spun around - and ran over one of the men.

Or maybe two, she thought as she buckled, when another thump sounded when he sped forward, hands tight on the steering wheel. She felt giddy at the thought that those  _ shitholes _ were dead, refusing to let herself fall into a moral dilemma in that moment. 

Clara felt the relief hit her then, the shock at what she’d had to do, and what had almost happened to her. Her fingers, still clenched around her keys that were now covered in blood, unclenched slightly. They ached from the force she’d held them in position at. 

Swallowing down the sudden pounding anxiety, she turned to look at Edward. “You good?”

“No,” he spat, eyes completely black as far as she could tell, and the tires screeched as the car lurched to a stop.

“Me neither,” Clara said shakily, wiping the keys off on her jeans. 

“Distract me,” Edward’s voice was a plea, despite the harshness to it. Clara needed a distraction as well, and readily launched into her words like falling into her bed.

“I haven’t slept in nearly two days,” she started, shoving her keys in her pocket and cracking her knuckles. “And I’m not going to sleep tonight because I’m planning Tyler Crowley’s murder.”

“Why?” he asked softly.

“Because the dumbass boy thinks I’m going to prom with him,” Clara spat. “Like I would go with a wrinkly ballsack like him. Dumbass would just crash the car on the way there, like he did  _ into me _ . I’m gonna have to hide the body somewhere, I’m thinking of tying weights to it and tossing it off a cliff at one of La Push’s beaches.”

She hadn’t thought that, but inspiration came at the oddest of moments.

“I heard about that,” Edward said, voice soft and slightly less-rumbly. 

“Of course you did,” Clara nodded, feeling a wave of irritation at Tyler once more. “Oh, I wrote my Macbeth paper practically high, I’m gonna need you to review it, please. Tell me where I need to make it sassier an’ shit. You better?”

“Not really,” he leant his head back against the headrest, jaw clenched.

“What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes I have a problem with my temper, Clara,” he said softly. “But it  _ wouldn’t _ be helpful for me to turn around and hunt down those…”

“I feel you,” Clara said quickly, rolling her neck, desperate to maker her body feel less awake. She hadn’t felt this awake all day. She was cold. “I scare myself sometimes because logically, I know I should feel guilty about hurting people, but when shitholes like that are brought into the equation, I just feel happy. And yeah, it wouldn’t be productive of us to go back and finish them off, but hey, two of them might be dead already, I made it so that one of them is gonna have dick problems  _ forever _ , and the other broke his arm. I’d say we make a good team. High five!”

She held her hand up, which quivered, her grin was wide and her eyes wider. She felt a little unhinged, but didn’t quite care. Edward laughed quietly, sounding a lot like a madman, and lightly high-fived back. His hand was like ice, hard as a rock. She didn’t mention it.

The clock read that it was nearing 7:30. And hour late. 

“Fuck, Angela and Jessica,” Clara groaned, fighting the urge to let her teeth chatter. 

Edward turned the ignition on without a word. He drove dangerously fast and pulled up to  _ Bella Italia _ just as her two friends were exiting, face and body language anxious. She didn’t question how he knew  where they were going to eat; this was the guy who thought sneaking into a girl’s bedroom in the night to watch her sleep was cool. Stalking was like his second nature. (A slight exaggeration, but Clara thought she could be forgiven in her state.)

Not to mention she was beginning to suspect there was something even  _ more _ supernatural than vampires going on. 

And then he started to get out.

“The fuck you doin’?” Clara made a face, and Edward grinned at her with his black eyes.

“Taking you to dinner.”

Clara stared at him for a moment, before throwing her seatbelt off and tumbling out of the car. Edward waited on the sidewalk, and despite her shaking and whole adrenaline-high-ness, she was actually quite excited.

“Hey, Jess, Angela!” Clara shouted as she walked up to her dinner partner.

The two turned at their names, and when they caught sight of her, their faces fell in relief. When they saw who Clara was standing with, though, their eyes went wide and they hesitated a few feet away. 

“Where have you been?” Jessica asked, eyes narrowed as she glanced between Edward and Clara.

“I got into a fight,” Clara told her honestly. “Prob’s would’a been worse if Edward hadn’t shown up. It’s all good now.”

Angela stepped forward to place a hand on her shoulder. “A fight? Clara, are you okay?”

Clara felt her shoulders slump in relief as she leant into Angela’s hand. Angela had a way of making her feel safe and warm when she was near, one of the things that had lead to them dating before, but now it was just a comfort.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said with a grin, covering Angela’s hand with her own and squeezing. “You should’a seen the other guys, though.”

Angela’s face contorted, and Clara knew she could see the way Clara shook lightly. “You should eat… We already ate, but we can wait-”

“I can drive Clara home,” Edward cut in smoothly with a closed smile. “That way you don’t have to wait.”

Her tall friend bit her lip, “I don’t know…”

“It’s cool, Ang,” Clara patted her hand. “Edward won’t do anything.”  _ Anything more, that is. _

“If you’re sure, Clara,” Angela gave her an intense look, but when Clara nodded, equally intense, she sighed. “Alright. I’ll bring you’re things with me to school tomorrow? Remember to get some sleep.”

Clara laughed, “I’ll see you then, Ang, Jess.”

Angela and Jessica went back to Jessica’s car, the short girl looking over her shoulder constantly with an extremely curious face. Clara knew she was going to be interrogated the next time she saw her.

“Shall we?” she said to Edward, turning towards the restaurant.  He smiled at me softly and followed.

_ Bella Italia _ wasn’t very crowded, but it had a nice atmosphere to it. Clara felt her stomach grumble in anticipation. The hostess was tall, to her jealousy, with bleach-blonde hair and a pretty smile. However, she only saw Clara for a moment before seeing Edward. The moment she had was obvious, eyes going wide and her back straightening. 

Clara understood the feeling. 

“A table for two?” Edward prompted, and for a moment the woman looked between Edward and Clara, and then spun on her heel.

She led them to the middle of the room where everyone was, about to seat them at a table for four. Clara thought she understood, seeing as it was late and maybe there weren’t enough wait staff on board, so grouping everyone together made things easier. However, Edward slipped the hostess a tip and asked for something more private.

_ Well _ , Clara thought with a bit of hesitance.  _ I don’t know whether I want to call him a douche or pat myself on the back _ .

The hostess led them to a booth-filled area, all empty. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” Edward flashed her a toothy smile, filled with danger.

Clara sat opposite of Edward, smiling under her breath as the hostess stumbled away. Edward didn’t seem satisfied, though, and Clara rolled her eyes.

“You know what you’re doing, right?” Clara questioned with a smirk. Already, inside this place and with Edward, her shaking had stopped.

Edward turned to look at her, an indention right above his nose and between his eyebrows. “Doing? What do you mean?”

“You- you-” Clara fought to find the right word. “You use your prettiness to trip her up! It’s not nice.”

Edward smiled at her, crooked a gleaming. “You think I’m pretty?”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Yes, Edward, you’re very pretty. Nevermind.”

He seemed to find her answer amusing, because he gave a chuckle, but he seemed to relax into his chair as if satisfied. The waitress arrived then, short with a bob of black hair and Asian features. Clara thought her very pretty.

“Hello, my name is Amber and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?” Amber wasn’t even  _ looking _ at Clara, she noted with amusement. 

Edward looked at Clara for an answer, raising his eyebrows.

“I’ll have a Diet Coke,” Clara ordered with a smile to the girl, who scribbled it down without looking.

“Two Diet Cokes,” Edward corrected. 

Amber gave him a smile that Edward didn’t see, “I’ll be right back with that.”

Edward was still staring, though. “How are you feeling?”

Clara felt warmth in her chest; he was actually concerned. “I’m… much better.”

“Do you feel dizzy, sick, cold…” Edward listed off symptoms of shock.

“Not anymore,” Clara smiled at him, softly and full of trust. “The shock is wearing off. I’m used to it.”

She really was, but Edward didn’t seem happy at the answer.

“I’ll feel better when you have some sugar and food in you,” he nodded.

As if summoned by the devil, the waitress slid into view with drinks and breadsticks. She set them down on the table but didn’t acknowledge Clara, turning to Edward. Clara took the moment to look at the menu and pick out a chicken-and-pasta dish.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Clara?”

Clara looked up to meet Edward’s questioning eyes with a smile, and showed the waitress what she wanted. “I’ll have this, please, but without peppers.”

Amber nodded, wrote it down, and turned back to Edward. “And you?”

“Nothing for me,” he said, and Clara remembered right then that he was probably a vampire. No wonder.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Amber said coyly and Clara snorted as she took a gulp of her drink. She was shot a glare by the woman as she left.

Clara finished her drink quickly, and took Edward’s at his prompt. She felt goosebumps on her arms, and simply rolled the sleeves of her shirt.

“Are you cold?” Edward questioned, sounding worried.

“Only a smidge,” Clara grinned at him, snatching a breadstick and tearing pieces off of it. 

Edward shrugged off his beige leather jacket and handed it to her, and Clara took a moment to appreciate the view of Edward Cullen in a tight, white-colored turtleneck. Nice. She put it on with a murmured thanks. She realized, looking at him, that his eyes were light again - lighter than anything she’d seen yet, a golden butterscotch. She loved butterscotch. 

Even as he appeared troubled, she said, “I’m glad you’re in a better mood. Your eyes are much prettier when they’re lighter.”

Edward’s head gave a slight jerk as he stared at her. “What?”

“When your eyes are dark, you’re crabby,” she told him her observations. “When they’re light and gold, you’re calm and shit. I think I’ve figured it out, too.”

He seemed put out. “More theories?”

“Only one,” she mumbled, and when the waitress appeared with her food, she waited for Amber to leave and unrolled her utensils. “You see, I’ve spent a month in Forks every summer all my life. And every summer, most of the time is spent in La Push. I was practically raised there. But…”

She saw his expression.

“I do have a question.”

He seemed expectant and wary at the same time. So unlike him to everyone else but her.

“Let’s say that someone can read minds,” Clara started and saw his fingers pause where they tapped on the table. “Aside from a few exceptions-”

“Just one,” Edward interrupted, watching her closely. “Hypothetically.”

Clara smiled, holding in her glee. “Just one. Hypothetically. How would this person know when someone is in trouble if the one in trouble is the exception?”

“Through careful monitoring of the people around them,” Edward tilted his head, looking a bit angry. “If I had paid more attention, I wouldn’t have needed to time it so perfectly…”

Clara sighed. “You made it, though. That’s all that counts… You can trust me, Edward. More than anyone, I know how important secrets are.”

He looked at her closely. “I don’t think I’ve got a choice anymore - you’re much too intelligent. And… you’ve said that before, about secrets. What are  _ you _ hiding, Clara?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me,” Clara countered, shoveling more pasta and chicken into her mouth. 

Edward shook his head, put out and irritated. “Trouble finds you irresistible, doesn’t it…”

Clara smiled sadly. “Yeah. And like I said - I love the dangerous things that find me.”

And she reached forward to grip his hand. Because dangerous things were miracles unto themselves, and without Edward, she’d be in a lot more trouble than she’d been in before. 

“Thank you,” she spoke those two words like she had thanked him for saving the world.

His hand turned in hers, cold and unnatural but irrevocably Edward, fingers threaded between her own. “I’ve never tried to keep a specific person alive before. It’s much more troublesome than I thought - but maybe it’s just you.”

Clara thought back to everything that’s happened to her, how she just keeps on living. “Ever thought that the world is going to so much trouble to kill me for a reason? That my number’s been up for a while, and stopping things like the van and those men is just dragging it out?”

“Your number was up the first time we met,” Edward said darkly, and Clara remembered starkly the first time they’d met, in Computer Applications. She held in a shiver at the memory of his murderous face directed towards her. “You remember.”

“Yes,” Clara said, gripping his hand lightly. Her number had been up long before that, a lifetime ago in 2015 when she stepped in front of a semi-truck and lived.

“And yet here you sit.”

“Yep,” she popped the ‘p’. “Because I trust you. Because you went to the trouble of following me to keep me safe.”

He watched her eat silently for a moment. And then spoke. “I followed you by keeping tabs on Angela and Jessica. But I got distracted, and suddenly you weren’t there. I tried to follow you, drove circles around the city, and when the sun began to set I was about to follow on foot. But then…”

He wasn’t looking at her now, beautiful face contorted in disgust. 

“And then.” Clara prompted around a bit of pasta.

“I heard what they were thinking,” his upper lip curled. It was something she was familiar with, because in her first life, in Middle School, she’d made an act out of scaring her classmates with animalistic expressions. Some of them stayed a habit. When she was truly furious, truly wanted to hurt someone, her lip curled, exactly like that. “I saw your face in his mind.”

Edward leant forward to cover his face with his free hand.

“I smelt the blood and thought…” he gave a rough sigh, dragging in his next breath like it was trying to escape. “I ran them over before I realized that you had protected yourself, that you weren’t hurt. They didn’t die, though, and I didn’t trust myself to not go looking for them if I left you alone.”

Clara took the last bite of chicken and pasta. “Thank you, Edward. You saved me.” He didn’t answer. “My theory… I’ll tell you in the car. We should go.”

Edward moved his hand away from his face. Amber appeared as though she’d been watching. Clara didn’t pay attention to what was being said, trying to gather her thoughts.

_ I’m gonna tell him _ , she thought to herself.  _ But how? “Yeah, when you mix time-travel and reincarnation, you get me!” Jesus, Clara, this is crazy. _

Edward played the part of a gentleman, opening the car door for her. When he pulled out of the lot and onto the road, Clara began speaking.

“The Quileutes have legends about creatures called the Cold Ones,” she spoke. “I grew up on those - less so than an  _ actual  _ reservation kid, but still. And my theory is that you and your family are the Cold Ones, the vampires who drink from animal blood, the ‘civilised’ ones they made a treaty with.”

She had spoke so quickly her words slurred together, but Edward understood. His face was frozen and his knuckles white around the steering wheel.

“It wasn’t just the legends, though - I could barely remember them myself, but when some reservation kids said that your family doesn’t come here, I remembered. One of them, Jacob, he’s practically my brother. He said that the tribe elders think that your family are the ones from the stories.”

“And you believed it?” Edward questioned, trying to sound light but his voice was strange. 

“Well, knowing about myself the way I do, vampires aren’t  _ that _ big of a stretch,” Clara saw his eyes flash towards her, and she didn’t not notice how the car did not change or swerve. Supernatural senses. “But before I tell you about me… Do you sleep in a coffin?”

Edward threw his head back in surprised laughter, shock evident on his face. “ _ That’s _ your question? Coffins? You don’t even care in the slightest that I’m a monster?”

Clara smiled and sighed. “A monster doesn’t save fragile human girls. A monster doesn’t have morals. You’re not a monster, Edward - and if you were, I’m past the point of caring. You didn’t answer my question, though.”

“Does it  _ matter _ ?”

Clara shrugged. “Color me curious.”

He closed his eyes, looking like a man resigned to his fate. “No, we don’t sleep at all.”

“Garlic? Stakes? Sunlight?”

“No, no, and not in the way you think.”

Clara would ask more on that another day. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen,” he said easily. It wasn’t a lie, Clara decided. 

“For how long?” she asked instead.

“A while,” Edward grinned. When Clara didn’t ask another question, silent in her seat, he slowed from his high-speed driving to look at her. “My turn. What are  _ you _ , Clara Swan?”

The question she still didn’t know how to answer.

“Explaining it is hard,” Clara mumbled, shifting in her seat. “I’ve never told anyone. Ever. I’m human, I think. It’s just… Ugh. Okay. Here goes.

“On November 18th, 1999, I was born Molly Kirkpatrick - shush, let me finish.” Edward shut his mouth. “On May 12th, 2016, I was driving at night in the rain and got t-boned by a semi. I died. And then, on September 13th, 1987, I was born Clara Swan. And here we are today. Time-travel and reincarnation. It’s crazy, I know, but I  _ remember _ dying. And dying hurts.”

Edward stared at her, silent. Clara felt a rush of panic, he had to believe her. This was the first time she’d ever said it out loud, he _had_ to understand!  
“What, you can be a vampire, and I can’t… be me?” She questioned, trying to reign her feelings in.

“That’s not it,” Edward said, looking into her eyes. “I just don’t know what to think of it, how it fits in the world.”

Clara fell silent, staring despondently down at her lap. “Yeah, I understand the feeling.” After a moment of silence, she spoke up. “I take it you went hunting this weekend?”

“Yes,” Edward nodded. “It was hard - being away from you for so long. It was a very long three days. I really got on Emmett’s nerves.” He smiled ruefully at that, like he didn’t much care at all.

Clara raised an eyebrow, smirking. With everything out in the open, she felt… lighter. “Three days? Why weren’t you at school, then?”

Those two days had been terrible, combining her stress over her English paper and Edward’s absence. She wanted to know just why had hadn’t been there.

“The sun may not hurt me, but I can’t go out into the light,” he said quietly. “Not where anyone can see.”

“What does it do?” Clara questioned, earlier curiosity back.

“I’ll show you sometime.” Clara’d keep him to that.

But seriously, she had been worried. “You could have called, you know.”

He looked at her curiously. “But I knew you were safe.”

“I didn’t, though,” Clara snapped, frowning. “I… I don’t like being away from you, either.”

Her words didn’t effect him the way they’d effect anyone else. Instead of being delighted at them, he seemed pained, closing his eyes for a brief moment. She could see the way he swallowed.

“Ah,” he groaned quietly. “This is wrong. Clara… I am too dangerous for you to be so attached to me. It is one thing for myself to be miserable…”

“Don’t be dumb, idiot,” Clara snapped, frowning at him and watching his stunned face. “Either way, it’s too late. I’m too attached, and doing anything else isn’t going to change that. Besides,” she said with a plea in her voice. “You’re the only one who  _ knows _ about me. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

They were getting close now, having already zoomed past the Forks sign. Edward didn’t look at the road, though, and somehow that didn’t bother her. She trusted him, trusted him so much more than anyone else in the world. More than herself, even. When he gently brushed his knuckles across her cheek, her eyes fluttered.

The thought stuck to her, though, that he would leave now. Now that he knew, and she would be alone - the fear and depression that smacked into her was for many reasons. That she would be vulnerable, that someone knew about her and could do what they wished with that information. That Edward would be gone. Tears pricked her eyes and her lip quivered.

“Are you crying?” Edward sounded appalled. He didn’t need to ask, because before she could rub at her eyes, his hand, still resting on her cheek, moved to brush away the few tears that escaped. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled his hand away, leaving warmth to flood the cold imprint it had made, and she felt like she had a lost a limb. There was silence in the car as darkness slid by too fast for her human eyes to catch.

“Tell me something,” Edward suddenly said, and his voice, though rough, had a forced-cheer to it. “What made you stab that man with your keys?”

Clara laughed, and closed her eyes, despite the lack of humor she really felt. “I wanted to make it so that if he ever went to a Hospital with that injury, he’d have trouble explaining it without incriminating himself. That, and I hoped to damage his dick irrevocably.”

Edward chuckled lightly. “You didn’t think about running?”

Clara shrugged lightly. “They were taller and stronger than me - I had no doubt that I wouldn’t make it. I thought about screaming, but didn’t really get the chance.”

Edward shook his head lightly. “You were right - I’m definitely fighting fate to keep you alive.”

Clara snorted. Yeah, understatement, but she was doing her best as well. 

They were at her house, Charlie’s cruiser parked in the drive and the lights on inside. All Clara wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep for eternity. As Edward put the car in park, Clara slowly began to unbuckle her seatbelt. She didn’t want to leave…

“Will you…” Clara paused, bit her lip, and continued. “Will you be here, tonight?”

Edward’s eyes were deadly intense, like he was waging war inside his head. “Do you want me to be?”

Clara nodded her head decisively. 

“Then yes, I will,” Edward promised. 

Clara smiled, relieved and thankful, and made to hug him - before hesitating. Instead, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

“I’ll see you soon, then,” she whispered, and got out. 

Edward waited until she was at the door to pull away.  It was only then that she remembered she was wearing his jacket, and as she stepped inside, she realized Charlie would wonder where her purchases were.

_ Shit _ , she thought, even as she heard her dad call her name.

“Hey dad,” Clara tried to greet nonchalantly, peeking her head into the living room but not entering; he was watching a baseball game. “I’m, like, super tired. Can we post-pone the convo for tomorrow? Please?”

Charlie craned his head to look at her, concerned. “Alright, if that’s what you’d like. Get some rest, Clar-bear. Love you.”

She felt relief, “Love you, too, dad. Night.”

Clara practically leapt up the staircase to gather her pajamas and toiletries and run to the bathroom. She was walking out in her shorts and long sleeved sleeping-shirt, toweling her hair off, when Charlie called up to her. 

“Clara, Jessica Stanley’s on the phone!”

Clara groaned and practically crawled down the staircase. She didn’t want to talk to Jess.

“You made it home?” was the first thing Jess said to her, sounding surprised. Did she expect Clara to go home with Edward?

“Yeah,” Clara mumbled.

“Tell me everything!” Jessica demanded, a gleeful tone in her voice.

“How about tomorrow in Creative Writing?” Clara pleaded. She hoped Edward hadn’t arrived yet and was left waiting for her because  _ Jessica Stanley  _ had to get the juicy details.

“Oh, is your dad there?”

“Yeah,” Clara lied, Charlie was back in the living room. Anything to get off the phone.

“Okay, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!”

“Bye,” Clara hung up the phone with a sigh.

When she walked into her room, tossing the towel in the dirty clothes hamper, she heard the tell-tall tapping on her window. With a grin, she slid the window  up and let her vampire friend crawl in.

Edward grinned at her, having changed his clothes himself. Now, he wore darker jeans, a white tee, and a cream sweater with a wide neck over it. Clara thought he looked quite pretty in it, but Edward looked pretty in everything.

“Tell me more about your mind reading,” Clara pleaded as she got out her English essay and began to go over it with a red pen. 

He smiled, settling into her desk chair, and began to talk. 

It was a lovely situation, her laying on her stomach, feet kicked up in the air, working and listening to his quiet voice as he spoke. Charlie moved about loudly downstairs, so she didn’t fear him walking in on the two. 

When Charlie went to bed, Clara felt her eyes begin to droop. 

“You should go to sleep,” Edward commented, rolling the chair closer to the bed, bumping into the edge of it. 

Clara shook her head, grabbing a water bottle from her bedside table. “Can’t. Have to finish this, and if I fall asleep now I won’t wake up until well into the evening tomorrow.”

Not to mention what Jessica would think if she didn’t show up to Creative Writing.

Edward sighed, reaching out to place a piece of her wet hair behind her ear. “Finish the essay and go to sleep. I’ll make sure to wake you up.”

Clara felt a bit of energy renew at this. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Edward nodded.

Clara rewrote her essay within an hour, and snuggled under the duvet. When Edward simply watched her from her chair, Clara groaned.

“I’m never going to sleep with you just sitting there, weirdo,” she mumbled, and scooted over in her bed, patting the space next to her. “Get over here.”

Edward stared at her, “I don’t think that’s best. You’ll get cold.”

“Then don’t get under the covers,” Clara shrugged, glaring at him. “Bed, now, or I won’t sleep at all.”

Edward rolled his eyes, but dutifully pulled his shoes off and crawled onto the bed. “So demanding.”

“You love me,” Clara mumbled around a yawn, not even registering her words. He was rock solid and unmoving next to her, so she made an effort to snuggle up to him, pushing her face into his side when he lifted his arm to place it under her head. “Night, Edward.”

“Good night, Clara,” Edward kissed the top of her head, and she wondered lightly if that was just her imagination.

She’d never fallen asleep so quickly before, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is Friday, May 13th, 2016, 10AM PST-USA time.


	8. Chapter Seven

Clara woke up after what felt like only a few seconds, a migraine blaring in her head. Cold, hard hands were stroking her face, and a beautiful voice whispered insistently for her to wake up. She smelled a floral scent that, for some reason, didn’t irritate her, and the cold hands eased the thundering in her hand.

“Clara, you need to start getting ready or we’ll be late,” Edward whispered, amusement deep in his voice, and Clara wanted to smack him.

“Mmph,” Clara grunted, turning her head into her pillow. Edward chuckled. “Stupid school. What time is it?”

“Seven twenty-one,” Edward said, and Clara moaned. Twenty minutes until school officially begun, forty before she was counted absent… 

Clara began to push herself from her position, and instantly Edward was out of the bed, too fast to register. He helped up, handing her - Advil and a glass of water? When had he had time to get that? Wait, vampire,  _ yeah. _

She took the pills gratefully and took a swig of water. Charlie was already gone, it seemed. Outside the sky was darker than it should be at this time, and the fog was so thick she could barely see the street. Edward’s volvo was parked in the drive.

“I’ll wait for you downstairs,” Edward told her, slipping out of the room so she could get ready.

Clara mumbled something incoherently in response, stumbling around the room like a drunkard. She dressed in a thick black sweater over a long-sleeved grey shirt, her skinny jeans, boots, and a dark blue, thick-knit infinity scarf. She didn’t both putting her hair up, leaving it trapped under the scarf and inside her sweater. 

After that, she threw her things in her backpack and made her way down the stairs. Edward was waiting at the front door with two granola bars and a water bottle, an indulgent smile on his face. Clara felt her mood instantly rise at seeing him, and rubbed the sleep out of the corner of her eyes, though that did nothing for the drowsiness and migraine.

“Do you want to ride with me today?” Edward offered, and Clara was glad that he gave her choice, though she knew what her answer was. 

“Of course,” she said with a smile, taking the small breakfast from him and unwrapping one of the granola bars. As they got into the car, she remembered his jacket. “Shit your jacket. Let me-”

“Keep it,” Edward cut in, lightly grabbing her elbow to stop her from leaving the volvo. “I’d rather you have a jacket to keep the cold out. I don’t want you to get sick.”

Clara hesitated, biting her lip softly. That jacket was  _ expensive-looking _ . “If you’re sure…?”

“I am,” Edward nodded, and Clara settled back into the leather seat. “No questions?”

Clara rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you’ll tell me in time. I thought you might have some of your own. Anyone else would.”

“I do,” he nodded, and soon enough they were pulling up to park next to a bright red convertible. Clara realized belatedly that because his family was not in the car, they must have driven something else.

“Wow,” she whispered as she unbuckled. “Very eye-catching.”

“Exactly why we rarely use it here,” Edward murmured, before speeding to her side of the car to open her door for her. What a gentleman, she snorted. “We  _ try _ to blend in.”

“You fail epically,” Clara told him with a mock-stern voice, a grin on her face. Edward grinned back crookedly. “The speed you guys must get to…” She sighed longingly. Dreams of street-racing influenced by the Fast and Furious movies flitted through her mind rapidly. 

“We all like to drive fast,” Edward nodded.

We walked towards the school building; Edward’s driving had gotten them there with plenty of time to spare. Jessica was waiting under the cafeteria roof overhang, eyes so wide Clara thought they might pop out of her head. I was only then she realized that Edward and she were standing close enough that their sides brushed with every movement, but she was too satisfied with that to move away for Jessica’s sanity. 

“Morning, Jess,” Clara smiled and gave a small wave.

“Good morning, Jessica,” Edward said politely, and Jessica nearly swooned. Poor girl.

“Er… hi,” Jessica glanced between the two of them many times before staring intently at Clara. “I’ll see you in CW, then.”

“See ya,” Clara said, knowing that she was going to face the inquisition. 

Edward leant down to whisper into her ear, and Clara shivered at the breeze he created. “What are you going to tell her?”

Of course, he’d read Jessica’s mind. He couldn’t help it, though, she reminded herself. Which meant he would hear everything she said to Jessica, too.

“That depends on what she wants to hear,” Clara glanced up at Edward with a smirk. “When you know that, it’s easy to give a white-lie or two.”

Edward got the hint and chuckled, deliberating for a moment. “She wants to know if we’re secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me.”

Clara somehow knew that was what Jessica would want to know. She bit her lip - she’d tell as much of the truth as she could, the best lies always contained them, but the first part…  _ Were _ they dating? Clara couldn’t help the thrill of excitement that passed through her at the thought of it.

“ _ Are _ we dating?” Clara asked, turning to face Edward and look up at his carefully blank face.

Edward tilted his head, clearly thinking very hard about it. “I wouldn’t be… adverse to it. Would you? I thought you wanted to give me a trial-friend-run.”

Clara smiled widely at him, “Oh, you passed that with flying colors, Edward. And I wouldn’t be  _ adverse _ to it, either. So, dating?”

“Dating,” he confirmed after a silent, long moment of staring intently at her. “What will you tell her on the second question?”

Clara let herself laugh widely. “The truth, of course! Now, I have class to go to,  _ boyfriend _ . I shall see you in second period.”

With that she turned away, heart beating fast and a blush across her cheeks.

She was dating Edward Cullen.

_ She was dating Edward Cullen! _

 

* * *

 

When she got to French, Mike was waiting for her with a grin. “How was Port Angeles?”

Clara smiled at him as she sat down and got out her French work. “It was nice. We all got beautiful dresses.”

“Did Jessica say anything about our date?” Mike asked, a very curious look on his face.

Clara chuckled. “Definitely. But I don’t tell secrets!”

Mike groaned, throwing his hands over the edge of the desk to rest his chin on his arms and look up at her pleadingly. “Cla _ -ra! _ You  _ have _ to tell me!”

She laughed at his face, eyes crinkling closed as more students flooded the room. “She enjoyed it immensely, that’s all I’m saying! Oh, don’t give me those puppy eyes, Michael Newton!”

He grinned impishly up at her, “I had to try, Clara. What kind of dress did you get?”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to ask about Jess’?” 

He snorted and raised his head to prop it in his hand. “She’ll tell me all about it later, I’m sure. We have to match, after all.”

Clara nodded, humming thoughtfully. “True enough. Mine’s green and lacy.”

Mike was clearly trying to imagine it, looking at her speculatively. “Like, neon green? Vomit green?”

Clara gagged, rolling her eyes. “Ew, no, pastel.” She turned to face the board but looked out of the corner of her eye at him. “I didn’t know you cared this much about fashion.”

Mike flushed and turned away. “I don’t. Let’s get to work.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Your masculinity is safe from the perils of fashion, Mike, no worries. I’ll have you know that the world’s leading fashion designers are men, though!”

He didn’t say anything, so she dropped it. 

Class went by slowly, Clara paid too much attention to the ticking of the clock. When class ended, she (quite rudely) left before saying goodbye to Mike. He’d understand, she’s sure. The Computer Apps classroom was in a building across campus, so Clara practically ran there; her efforts were for naught, because although she was one of the first people there, Edward was there already, smiling at her from his seat.

When she sat down with a laughingly irritated huff, Edward swiveled his chair to her direction. She began booting up the computer, but knew she wouldn’t be doing classwork; the hot air of the room made her drowsy, but Edward’s presence acted like a lightning bolt down the spine.

“I didn’t tell you this morning, but you look lovely,” Edward said, and she wondered if he knew how his rumbling voice affected her.

Clara blushed deeply, self-consciously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was still trapped underneath her clothes, but it was warm and she didn’t want to change it.

“Thank you,” she said softly, bringing her water bottle out of her backpack to sip at it. “Now, you said you wanted to ask some questions.”

Edward nodded. “Are you alright with me sharing this with my family?”

Clara nodded, weary but having anticipated this. “You revealed something dangerous to me, which affects your family; it’s only fair.”

Her new boyfriend nodded, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “Do you remember dying?”

Clara hummed. “Asking the hard questions first? Alright. Yes, I do. I wasn’t paying attention while I drove, and I have experience in being hit by semi-trucks, so it was nothing...new.”

Edward’s eyes sharpened and he frowned. “Experience? What do you mean?”

Clara sighed, wanted to get this out of the way quickly. “I have a history of depression and suicide attempts, Edward. None in this life, I’ve made sure of it, thankfully.”

Edward didn’t seem to know what to say to that, staring at her with a darkened expression, before taking her hand lightly, squeezing it, and rubbed his thumb along her knuckles. Clara smiled at him sadly. It wasn’t something that she could change, and she had always hated people’s reactions to what had happened. This was the first time in many years she had been faced with it.

“What happened to make you feel that desperate?” he asked, quiet as a whisper. Students were beginning to fill the room. 

“I got outed by my brother and a bad situation at home just got worse thereafter,” Clara shrugged, trying to not think about it. “I found the idea of death, despite any afterlife that may await me, a better option.”

Edward was silent for a moment, keeping eye contact with her. “Do you still need medication? Does anyone know?”

Clara snorted self-deprecatingly. “Yeah, probably, but how do I explain it? ‘Oh, yeah, I need to get some antidepressants, and no, I can’t explain why!’ I don’t think that’d go over well.”

Edward nodded in concession. “What were you taking? I could get some for you.”

Clara blinked at him in astonishment. “Seriously? How- wait, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know. I took Zoloft, 75 milligrams once a day, every day. Next question.”

He nodded, and somehow she knew that she was going to have a new bottle of pills by the next morning. “Did you have any pets?”

The sudden change in severity of his interrogations was amusing, and Clara answered with a smile. “Oh, many over the years. At the time I died, I had two cats, Jeffery and Jethro, who were quite spoiled, and two dogs, Kevin and Sponge.”

Edward’s lip quirked. “Sponge?”

Clara rolled her eyes, “Don’t ask me, I wasn’t there when they got him. My brother named the dog.”

He smiled, chuckling, as their teacher entered the room and began to speak; the two of them ignored him. “Favorite flower?”

“Ooh,” Clara rubbed her chin. “It’s so cliché, but pink roses. They’re my absolute favorite. Roses of any kind, really.”

“Favorite color?”

“Blue,” she answered honestly, thinking of all the many shades.

“Favorite song?”

“That’s a tie between  _ Earth _ by Sleeping At Last and  _ Overdose _ by Alessia Cara,” Clara sighed wistfully at his confused face. “They won’t come out for a while, though. A very long while.”

Edward nodded sympathetically. “Favorite story?”

“Harry Potter,” the words were out of her mouth the second he finished hers, which Edward answered with a snort. They both knew that answer.

“If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live, and why?”

Clara thought about it for a moment, but didn’t need much time. “Paris, France. There’s something picturesque and freeing about it, and call me a romantic, it’s so beautiful there.”

These sort of ice-breaker questions filled the hour between them, Edward trying to understand how her mind worked in the little ways that would build to bigger things. He didn’t even seem to be finished by the time the bell rung, Clara noticed. She grinned in anticipation for lunch, holding his hand as he walked her to C.W., a goofy, crooked grin on his face. 

The fog had dispersed by this time, but Clara hoped it would come back. And, just like Edward had warned and Clara knew would happen, Jess was waiting eagerly for her in C.W. Clara squeezed Edward’s hand in lieu of a good-bye and went to sit with her. 

Jessica didn’t  _ not _ notice Edward walking her to class, giggling in her seat. 

“Tell me everything!” she demanded the moment Clara’s ass hit the seat.

“Where shall I start?” Clara asked.

Jessica fluttered her hands in impatience. “I don’t - oh, what happened last night?”

Clara smiled, carefully trying to not think about the events. “We had dinner and he drove me home. It was quite nice - he gave me his jacket, the gentleman.”

Her friend gave a shrill squeak, shaking her head so furiously that her wild curls seemed to move by themselves. “Did he kiss you? Was it a date? Did you ask him to meet you there?”

Clara shook her head. “No, he found me in a spot of trouble, but we got out of there hella fast. It was...sorta a date? I don’t know if you can have a date so spontaneously. And he didn’t kiss me, either. We just talked.” A lot. 

Jessica’s eyes lit up with interest, and she leaned forward with puckered lips. “About what?”

Clara snorted, and with twinkling eyes, held a finger to her lips. “Now that would be  _ telling _ , Stanley.”

The short girl groaned, but when it looked like Clara wasn’t going to budge, asked, “He picked you up for school this morning?”

Clara nodded, and lied. “It was quite the surprise.”

“So you’re going out again? On a date- _ date _ ?” Jessica demanded.

Clara thought it over for a moment, and made a decision. “Yeah. He’s taking me to the spring dance.”

Jessica gasped, high and loud, causing the class to turn and look at them. Blushing, Clara waved them away with apologies and a soft glare from the teacher, and only when they weren’t being watched did Jessica do a little dance in her chair. She looked like she’d just been told her favorite TV show was getting another season after threats of cancellation. 

“Oh, that’s going to be so amazing! I can’t believe it, Edward Cullen taking you to the dance!” Jessica said, breathless and grinning; Clara couldn’t help but laugh quietly in agreement. And then, with a more serious face, she asked. “Do you... _ like _ him? Like,  _ really like _ him?”

Clara smiled softly in response, almost unconsciously. “Definitely. Sometimes too much, but I wouldn’t change how I feel for the world.”

“Do you think he likes you?” Jessica demanded.

Clara sighed softly. “I  _ think _ so. Maybe even equally to how much I like him, which is an unhealthy amount.”

Enough to be okay with him slipping into her bedroom while she slept.

Jessica whistled, low and quiet. “You’ve got it bad.”

Clara nodded in agreement. “I’ve only felt this way about anyone once before, and even that was on a smaller scale.” She remembered her freshman year of high school in her last life, a year younger than her peers and naive. “He was older than me, and he had a long term girlfriend. I remember knowing that my feelings would only complicate things for us, for him having to deal with my feelings - so I never said a word. This time, I don’t think I could do that. I… I love him too much.”

Jessica was enraptured in her explanation, eyes wide as if she were watching a soap opera. “Jeez, Clara, you really don’t do things by halves. It sounds like you’re  _ in _ love with Edward.”

The words rang true to her ears, and Clara couldn’t help the small intake of breath. “Shit. I think I am.”  
Jessica looked sympathetic to her plight. “Do you think _he’s_ in love with _you_?”

Clara struggled to find an answer. “God, I hope so.”

Please let him feel the same way.

 

* * *

 

When lunch finally came, she ditched Jessica with an apologetic-but-not-really grin, and went to find Edward. He was waiting for her at the cafeteria doors, and the moment they saw each other, their eyes softened and their grins became dopey. Clara quickly laced their fingers together with a happy sigh, enjoying the cool feeling of his palm against hers. They got into the lunch-line, where Edward began filling up a tray. 

“Damn, son, you are over estimating my stomach,” Clara mumbled in shock at the amount of food on the tray.

Edward snorted lightly, shaking his head at her. “Half if for me, of course.”

Clara smirked, “Oh, yeah.”

The two of them sat at the same table they had the last time they ate together, and Edward pushed the tray towards her with a wave of his hand. Clara took the hint and grabbed the carton of fries, which she began to devour.

And then paused. “Can you even  _ eat _ this? Like, at all?”

Edward raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “You can eat dirt, can’t you?”

Clara made a face, but nodded. “Okay, well, don’t force yourself on my account, then. Yuck.”

Edward laughed at her face, loud and happy, and glanced over his shoulder amused. “Jessica is analyzing everything I do - she’ll break it down for you later.”

Clara rolled her eyes with a grin. “Good ol’ Jessica, profiler extraordinaire.”

Edward smiled back at her, leaning on the table and propping his head up, just above the table, with his arms. From this position, he had to look up at her through his eyelashes, and Edward’s voice took a very warm, vibrating tone to it that gave her a shiver.

“Something you said to Jessica is bothering me,” he admitted. “Do you really think I don’t like you as much as you like me?”

Clara blushed and shoved some fries in her mouth. Around them, she mumbled, despite his admonishing face, “I don’t know, I mean, I hope you like me as much as I like you, but I can never know because I’m not the mind-reader. Why were you eavesdropping anyways?”

Edward smirked. “I wanted to hear what your answers were myself.”

Clara groaned. “Stupid vampire. Shut your pretty face.”

Edward snorted, and attempted to ‘shut’ his pretty face by pressing it into the crook of his elbow. It was comical, and she laughed, reaching out to yank on a strand of his hair; he sat up with a fond expression on his face. He caught her hand from retracting and held it close.

“I do,” he whispered softly, and her heart skipped. “Feel the same. You said you hoped so, and I do.”

Clara stared at him, frozen, unsure of how to respond. Her heart was overwhelmed with joy, with the knowledge that the boy she was in love with was in love with her as well, that sometimes fairy tales really did come true - she just didn’t know how to express it all to him, and the longer she stayed silent the smaller his smile got. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she blurted before he could come to some other conclusion. His eyebrows dipped and his head tilted at an angle. “It’s - unbelievable, to me, that someone so… perfect, could feel that way about someone like me. I’m flattered beyond words, too happy to say anything eloquently - God, I just… Ugh.”

She gripped his hand so tight she worried she’d break her hand from the force of it. She almost felt like bursting into tears. There was something about having her emotions validated and returned that always made Clara speechless and her throat tight.

“‘Someone like you’?” Edward echoed, a bit unhappy. “Clara, you underestimate yourself. You’re so much more than what you seem to think. You’re kind and selfless in a way I couldn’t imagine, but you match me in temper and out-do me in restraint. You’re talented and resilient and… So strong. Compared to everyone else, you might as well be fireworks against a blank backdrop.”

Clara felt the breath in her chest freeze. “You sure know how to make a girl swoon.”  
Edward grinned, her favorite grin. “Are you swooning? I can’t tell.”

Clara theatrically put a hand to her forehead, and in a high ‘Hollywood’ voice, said, “Oh my, it’s getting much too hot, I might just faint!”

Edward and she burst into chuckles.

When their giggles died out, Edward asked, “So, our date for Saturday is on then?”

Clara smiled softly. “Definitely.”

“Would you mind if we did something before-hand? I want to show you something,” he said, sounding as though he were a child sharing a Very Important Secret.

Clara reached out to gently rub her thumb across his cheek. “Of course, Edward.”

A darker look crossed his face at her touch. “You can cancel whenever you want. I wouldn’t mind.”

Clara glared at him. “Well, I would, so I won’t be. Face it, Cullen, you’re stuck with me.”

For a moment, he stared, before changing his face to a mock-sigh. “Oh, dear. Woe is me.”

“Woe is you for sure,” Clara laughed.

 

* * *

 

Classes continued on in this way, and during gym Clara had to luck to pair up with Mike for badminton. They made a good team, but neither of them were the greatest at the sport. Swinging around a racket was definitely not Clara’s greatest skill, she kept hitting the birdy too hard and either slamming it into the fence or making it fly way out of court. 

Once Coach Clapp gave them their ten minute respite to get changed before the bell rang, Mike turned to her with a look on his face that said very obviously that he had something to say to her. Clara sighed, pushing a lock of sweaty hair off her forehead, and waited patiently. 

“You and Cullen, huh?” he said, sounding disapproving. Clara rolled her eyes and readied herself.

“Yes, Mike, me and Edward. It’s none of your business, though,” Clara told him warningly, flashbacks to 2016 and pictures of tea on the internet. 

Mike’s face screwed up tight. “I don’t like it. He looks like… like he wants to eat you!”

Clara repressed a snort, and patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe you’re getting the eating connotation wrong, Mike. I’m pretty scrumptious if I do say so myself, and Edward looks  _ delightfully _ yummy, don’t you think?”

For a moment, he didn’t get it. And then suddenly his mouth fell open with a squeak as his face went firetruck red. If he were a cartoon character, Clara was certain steam would be coming out of his ears. Normally, teenage boys got dirty jokes instantly, but Forks seemed to be exempt from everything she considered normal. 

With a snicker and a face of mirth, Clara flounced away, leaving Mike broken on the gym floor. She showered quickly, toweled her hair, and redressed, shoving her scarf in her bag and carrying her sweater over her arms, still too hot from gym. Edward was waiting outside, leaning against the gym walls. Clara knew for certain that he had heard her and Mike’s conversation, but he thankfully stayed silent, a small smirk on his face as Clara grabbed his hand and pulled him along to English.

English passed quickest out of all her classes, as it turned out that Mr. Mason wasn’t actually a demon and gave them thirty minutes to go over their essays one last time. She and Eric switched and peer-edited, turning them in as soon as class was over. By now, Clara could barely even remember what she had written her essay about. Nor did she much care.

When class let out and she found Edward waiting for her outside her classroom again, they made their way to his car together. The majority of the student body were wrapped around Rosalie Hale’s red convertible, leaving the duo unnoticed as they slipped into the silver volvo and drove out of the lot.

“Want to meet Charlie?” Clara asked as she buckled up.

Edward raised an eyebrow at her. “I’ve met Chief Swan.”

“Well, yeah, duh,” Clara rolled her eyes at him. “But that was Edward Cullen, resident of Forks. He should meet Edward Cullen, Clara’s boyfriend. He needs to give you the shovel talk. And if you’re so worried about our date, then he’ll know and if anything happens to either of us, he’ll be on the case.”

Edward made a show of debating it, tilting his head back and forth with a small, please grin on his face, but his eyes had a hint of shadow at the mention of the ‘what if’s. “Alright. But only if you come meet  _ my _ family tomorrow.”

Clara’s heart skipped a beat. “Seriously? I can meet them? Oh, I can’t wait! Do you guys live in a mansion or something? Should I wear fancy clothes?  _ Fancy _ -fancy clothes? Or is it a sort of ‘casual friday in the office’ type of feel? Ooh, you had better make sure to tell me if I smell before, I do not want to go to meet your family who has  _ supernatural senses _ if I’m  _ smelly _ -”

“Clara,” Edward shushed her with a laugh, making her blush. “Anything is fine, don’t worry. They’re going to love you. We’re here.”

Clara looked up to realize that, yes, they were indeed parked behind her truck in her driveway. Charlie wasn’t home yet, wouldn’t be for a few hours. She’d start making dinner to soften him up.

“Come on, then, pretty boy,” Clara laughed, sliding out of the car with a grin. “We’ve got lasagna to cook.”

 

* * *

 

Charlie came home nearly three hours later, hanging his belt up on the rack near the door with a grunt. “Clara, whose car is in the driveway? Have you got a friend home?” And then, after a moment where he sniffed the air. “Is that lasagna?”

Clara poked her head out of the kitchen, having long since ditched her sweater for just her shirt, hair in a bun and a bit of sauce on her nose. “Yo, dad, you are correct, come claim your prize! A delicious home cooked meal!”

She and Edward had discussed it while she cooked and he watched with a wrinkled nose. Edward would eat as little as possible, and after he left, throw it up and come back once Charlie was situated in bed. The usual, but with added vomit. Yuck. (Edward wasn’t sure if vampires were susceptible to eating disorders in the same way that humans were; Clara had asked.)

Charlie’s belly rumbled as he made his way to the kitchen, a soft grin on his face. This grin faded when he caught sight of a third occupant at their small kitchen table, all pale skin and golden eyes. Edward stood on her father’s entrance, a stony look on his face, and held out his hand. 

“Edward Cullen, Chief,” he introduced himself. “We’ve met, but Clara thought we should meet properly.”

Clara sighed heavily. He threw her under the bus, huh? Damn vampire.

“‘Properly’?” her father repeated, shooting her a questioning glance as he shook Edward’s hand for a split second, shivering.

“Yeah,” Clara nodded, voice a bit high. “Thing is, dad, Edward and I are… dating.”

Charlie paused, as if to check if she were serious, before his eyes hardened and he turned back to Edward, looking him up and down. Clara could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

“At least he hasn’t got any piercings or tattoos like that Albert guy,” he grumbled, still hard-faced, and began to sit. The two followed suit.

Clara felt the struggle to defend Allen, an urge she had never quite gotten over. She pushed it down, and mechanically began to eat. Edward took a small fork-full of his small slice of lasagna. 

“Are you two going to the Spring Dance together?” Charlie asked pointedly, a frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Clara answered at the same time Edward said, “Yes, sir.”

Charlie nodded. “And have you had any other dates?”

Edward shook his head, and Clara watched the discussion carefully. “No, sir. Before the dance we were going to go hiking, however.”

Her father grunted in response, nodding a bit with a glare on his face. “And what are your intentions towards my daughter? Know that while I’m Chief, I  _ will  _ shoot you if you hurt her, and I  _ know _ how to hide a body successfully.”

Clara smirked and shoved some lasagna in her mouth. The shovel talk was always her favorite part about this kind of situation.

“I intend to make Clara happy, and if I am to ever hurt her I’ll gladly welcome a bullet,” Edward said, intensely serious. It made Clara shiver at the potent honesty in his voice.

Clearly it affected Charlie, too, because he paused in his grumblings to give Edward and appraising look. After a few long, silent moments, he nodded. 

“Alright, boy,” Charlie said, not relaxing from his ‘stern dad’ part. “Now let’s clean these plates up and watch some baseball.”

It was only an hour later that Edward was able to escape Charlie’s clutches, though he hadn’t been too unhappy about the baseball. Clara watched him drive away with a smile, knowing he would be back that night. She gave a hug to Charlie and went to go about her nightly routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter next wednesday. i don't know how many more there's gonna be after that, because I won't have a laptop. I'll do my best to churn out some chapters this weekend, but don't be surprised if there's a sudden stop.


	9. Chapter Eight

That night wasn’t that eventful, Edward came at the usual time but Clara was so goddamn tired from her lack of sleep that she passed out ten minutes after Edward carefully lay down next to her. She couldn’t remember the exact moment, but thought that it had happened mid-answer to one of Edward’s never-ending list of questions. However, her REM sanctuary got ransacked in a sense at, maybe, three in the morning.

As in, the whole thing with nearly being raped finally caught up with her and she woke up with a gasp, crying. Edward held her close as she tried to sob quietly, mind filled with hazy half-there dreams of men turning into terrible creatures that kept hurting and hurting and  _ hurting _ her. The rest of the night was spent similarly. 

The cycle went like this: Edward would calm her down after waking up from a nightmare with questions to distract her, she would fall asleep, an hour later she would wake up crying, rinse and repeat. 

When it came time to actually get out of bed and get ready for the day, the shadows under Clara’s eyes were just as deep as before, her head pounded with a migraine, and all she wanted to do was curl up in sweats with ice-cream and Edward. However, she knew that she had to keep up a certain image, and despite everything in her rebelling against the thought, pulled herself out of bed at Edward’s behest. 

Edward had changed sometime during the night, though he seemed a bit worried for her; he wore cream colors and tight jeans that shaped his ass nicely. Clara absent-mindedly kissed his cheek as she stumbled towards her dresser.

“See you soon, babe,” she mumbled. ‘Babe’ was one of those terms of endearment that most people laughed at, but even as she inwardly cringed at the usage, it slipped off her tongue like an old friend’s name.

Edward grinned at her, eyes gold and warm, before disappearing from her vision with the brush of a breeze against her. She blinked at the sudden change before turning to her clothes; she chose to wear a dark gold sweater, skinny, high-waisted,  white-wash jeans, and black wedge-heel ankle-boots. Clara then ran a hand through her hair, not bothering aside from that, and grabbed her school things.

Charlie had left earlier, but left her a sticky-note on the fridge wishing her a good day. She ate two bananas and was sipping some water when Edward appeared in the kitchen with a grin. The suddenness of the movement, unprecedented as she thought he was going to stay waiting for her outside in his car like usual, caused her to choke on her drink. As Clara hacked at the water in her lungs, Edward’s mirthful grin turned into worry as he, very gently, patted her back.

“Are you alright, Clara?” he asked, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, once she had stopped coughing.

“Yeah,” she answered tiredly in a rough voice, eyes droopy. “You just surprised me, is all. Make some noise for the human, yes?”

Edward nodded quite seriously, and kissed her forehead; suddenly she was realizing what she had done earlier and blushed. Holy shit she kissed him. Does it count as the first kiss of a couple if it wasn’t on the lips? Jessica would know, but she wasn’t going to ask the shorter girl. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by Edward pushing a familiarly shaped pill bottle into her hands. Along with...a phone? Looking down at them dumbly as Edward stood in her space, Clara took in the appearance of the device. A pink motorola razr. A replica of her last one. The one that had been smashed by the would-be rapists.

Huh, she had completely forgotten about her phone. How stupid was she? 

And the pill bottle, now that she looked closer, was prescribed to her, though she didn’t remember getting a prescription for any medications in this life. It was… Sertraline? What? That seemed familiar…

Edward noticed her confused facial expressions and spoke softly. “They’re for you, and don’t even think about paying me back. Alice programmed the phone, so it’s got all your old contacts in it,” oh yeah, she remembered talking about that...a few days ago? Ugh, time seemed so weird with Edward, like she had known him much longer than a few months. “And the medication is Zoloft, in 50mlg pills. I told you I’d get it for you.”

Clara felt her face grow hot, not in embarrassment but in gratitude. “Thanks, Edward. Really.”  
Her hand closed tightly around the pills as she slipped the phone into her pocket. She leaned forward to give him a kiss on the chin, the one place she could reach without having to go on tip-toes, and turned back to the kitchen counter. She opened the pill bottle and pulled out a kitchen knife.

The pills were small and blue, just like she remembered. Looking at them gave her a sense of nostalgia and relief. Clara cut a pill in half, and put the one-and-a-half pills into her mouth, swallowing it down with a sip of her water. Even as she swallowed, Edward had started his questions again, and she smiled softly, answering and following up with her own, trying to find the trivial things that no one else would care about. She put the pills away in her dresser upstairs before they left.

Within the drive to school that morning, Clara found her mood at a neutral calm, not too overpowering to her more in-her-face emotions. Just right. It gave her head a clearer feeling, and though the fatigue of the medicine hit her hard with a yawn, Clara realized just then why going off her meds for more than three days had always been so bad. She was emotional, sometimes overly, and it caused problems that were invisible until gone.

Today, she decided, was already a good day, aside from the nightmares.

 

* * *

 

Classes that day were continuously interrupted by her thoughts about Edward. Second period might as well have been a free-period because she nor Edward did any work, speaking quietly together, Clara’s hands flailing about as she tried to explain answers to him. However, there was a certain peacefulness that had her smiling and Edward watching in fascination at the change. Lunch passed quite the same, with the added incentive of food.

Throughout her classes without him, she’d occasionally get a text or send one off to him, always a question and answer. The two of them passed the day like this, throughout the drive back to Charlie’s, and during the time she began to make dinner for her and Charlie. 

It was only when Edward finally paused, in the middle of telling her about his fascination with tattoos and how they related to people’s thoughts, that she realized just how late it was. It was just after sunset. The day had passed like a dream, and she couldn’t remember if she had talked to any of her other friends or not.

Edward’s face was frowny, so she asked. “What is it now?”  
“Another complication,” he mumbled, coming close to Clara to pull her into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head. “Charlie’s around the corner, and I should leave. I’ll see you later.”

“‘Mkay,” Clara mumbled, kissing his jawline. “Let me walk you out.”  
When they stepped outside, Clara realized that it was raining and took a happy, deep breath. Edward squeezed her hand just as a small, black car pulled up; he was walking towards his car door as someone rolled the window down on the driver’s side, in the car by the time she heard Jacob call out her name, and down the road by the time her near-brother was standing next to her. 

“Hey, bro,” she smiled up at him, and saw that he was helping Billy out of the car. What were they doing here?

Charlie pulled up in his cruiser just then, bounding out with a grin for his best friend. “Billy! Jacob! How’s it going? And I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you behind the wheel, Jake.”

This seemed an old problem for Jacob, who just smiled and said, “We get permits early on the rez.”

“Sure you do,” Charlie laughed and Clara rolled her eyes, knowing full well they didn’t.

“I have to get around somehow,” Billy said, deep voice resonating around the drive as they migrated inside. 

Jacob followed Clara into the kitchen, where she escaped to quickly, mind whirling. Billy, she had noticed, did not look happy when he’d seen Edward. In fact, he looked like a man faced with a monster at his kid’s bedroom window. He knew, like all tribe elders knew. Edward had mumbled that into her half-asleep ears last night, during one of her wakeful periods. 

She didn’t want to face the disappointment and anger of the man she practically considered her second father. 

Jacob watched her with careful eyes as she took out the home-cooked pizza from the oven, and began to cut up slices. “Who was that pretty-boy?”

“Edward Cullen,” Clara said, keeping her voice smooth and even. It was so much easier to lie and redirect when she’d taken her meds. She’d forgotten that. “Can you get the plates?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, navigating the kitchen like he’d been there his whole life, which was practically true. “Explains why dad was acting so strange.”

Clara nodded. “I noticed that, too. You think he’s going to try and warn Charlie about them?”

Jacob shook his head, glancing over his shoulder towards the living room where the two men were setting up for a game on TV. “I doubt it, Charlie always gets mad about it. Superstitious is a small word to describe dad’s opinions.”

She had Jacob take the plates out to them, though, unable to face Billy. Jacob rejoined her in the kitchen with her, where she started up her homework. The fifteen-year-old looked at the workload that was going to be expected of him in a year with horror, to which she snorted at. 

It seemed like no time had passed at all, she in the middle of finishing up a project for Creative Writing when the game ended and Billy entered the room and told Jacob to get their car warmed up. Leaving the two of them alone. Clara refused to look up at him, pen poised over paper as if she were about to write, but still in her hand.

“Hey, Clara, how are you?” Billy asked, sitting down in the recently-vacated seat next to her. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Clara shrugged. “You’re not around whenever I stop by, it seems. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been fine,” he said, sounding like he was far away from the words coming out of his mouth. Billy leaned back in his seat, looking at her intently with narrow eyes. “How was school?”

“Pretty good,” Clara’s shoulders eased a microscopic bit, wondering if he just wasn’t going to ask. “Computer Applications is easy.”

Her second-father figure didn’t chuckle, the way she hoped he would, just nodded. “You youngsters seem to pick things up quite more quickly than us old guys. Speaking of, do you remember the stories I used to tell you as a kid?”

Shit, nevermind. And besides, how did he even transition to that? Was he hoping that she would ‘pick something up’ from this and suddenly run away from the Cullens? God, probably. Clara couldn’t even hate Billy, he was only doing what he thought was right, but she could severely disapprove. His views didn’t extend far enough to see how good the Cullens were, simply looking at them and seeing a monster. 

And she couldn’t even hate him for that, because for intents and purposes, vampires  _ did  _ prey on humans the majority of the time, but that did not mean they were incapable of intelligent thought or civilised behavior. Clara was sure that she could sit down next to a human-eating vampire and become friends with them, in the same way she was sure that she could sit next to a serial killer and become friends with them.

Sure, it wasn’t morally right, but when had Clara ever gone with the good points of morals? She was more likely to become fascinated with it, alongside disgusted, before leaving. 

Wait, she’d been thinking too long inside her own head, Billy was staring at her.

“Yes, I remember them,” Clara looked up at him for the first time that conversation, speaking hurriedly. “I take them into account all the time these days. You don’t have to worry about me, Billy. My decisions are my  _ own _ .”

She honestly hoped that this would be the end of it, that he would turn away and not bring this conversation topic back up. But from the look in his eyes, this was not the end of it. 

“I just worry that you’re making dangerous decision, Clara,” he said softly, reaching out to hold her hand in his wrinkly one. “I don’t want you to end up dead, or like Bella…”

Clara flinched at the low blow, slipping her hand out from under his. “I love you, Billy, you know that. I know what I’m doing.”  
He looked at her, lips pressed together and wrinkly brow furrowed tightly. “I don’t think you do, Clara. The Cullens -”

“Are vampires,” she finished for him, softly and quietly, noting his surprised look. “Dangerous. I know, Billy, I  _ know. _ However, it is my decision to make, not yours, so kindly back off about it. You know as well as anyone what trying to keep something away from a teenager does.” Makes them want it more.

He should know that she loved her dangerous things and friends. Better than anyone. 

“They’re not  _ safe _ , Clara,” Billy persisted, face creasing into worry. “Despite whatever they say-”

“They have never been nothing but honest,” Clara spat, finally letting go. “If this is all you wanted to talk about, consider the conversation over. This isn’t a decision you can change, Billy. I love and respect you, but just stop.”

Billy looked as though he’d been struck in the heart, and Clara felt a flare of guilt before squashing it. It wasn’t Billy’s right to get into her business like this, and even if she had been a  _ normal _ teenager-near-young-adult, she was supposed to be making her own decisions and learning from whatever consequences they had. He needed to butt out, and it hurt her slightly to be so blunt about it. 

Jacob bounded back into the kitchen in the silence after she spoke, shaking water out of his hair. “Car’s all warmed up, dad, we should get going.”

He either didn’t notice the tense atmosphere - unlikely, Jacob was extremely perceptive - or was purposefully ignoring it for their sake.  It was very kind of him, she thought, as she watched the two leave. Silently, she left Charlie in the living room to watch anything else that caught his interest, going up to shower.

She was asleep before Edward even got there, waking up only a handful of times fitfully in his arms. He shushed her back to sleep each time.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Edward seemed to sense her moodiness and gave her the space she desperately needed but didn’t voice. He waited outside in his car for her instead of hovering around inside the house. Even though today was Friday, Clara felt like it was a Tuesday, when the rest of the week suddenly became much more daunting and tiresome. 

She dressed in baggy grey sweatpants and a thinner green sweater. She thought the contrast was nice and put her hair into a ponytail. Already she wanted to crawl back into her bed and forget life - Clara took her pills gratefully, falling into the neutral level they gave her with relief.

When she got into the volvo, Edward was graciously silent, holding her hand in her lap and driving one-handed. Quietly, she explained last night’s events, not knowing if he had been nearby or not to hear them himself. Apparently he wasn’t, so his face pinched with worry and anger at Billy’s actions when she spoke of them.

“We could skip class,” he offered, and Clara wondered just how exhausted she really looked for that to be an option.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’ll get too comfortable and become truant.”

She didn’t need  _ that _ happening again, no siree.

He nodded, more so to himself to her it seemed. “That’s probably for the best… I should have let you drive yourself today, Alice and I are leaving after lunch to hunt.”

Clara frowned at him, “‘Let’ me? Edward, you don’t ‘let’ me do anything. I make my own decisions. I’ll walk home, catch a ride with Mike, or Jessica - it doesn’t matter.”

Edward dipped his head, eyes apologetic at her. “Of course, I’m sorry. If you’re sure…”

“I’m sure, Edward,” she mumbled, leaning her head back against the car seat and closing her eyes, already too tired for the day because of this conversation. “What time will you be at my house tomorrow?”

“Early, if we want to make it there and back in time to get ready for the dance,” he told her, a cautious look on his face. “You can cancel if you’d like to sleep in.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Clara smiled at him. “I’ll go to bed early. Maybe.”

“Will Charlie be there?”

“Nah, he’s gonna go fishing tomorrow, always leaves way early,” she told him, and at his darkening expression, tried to squeeze his hand, which was the equivalent to squeezing a rock. “He knows we’re going out, if I’m not back he’ll know to worry. He’ll probably show up at your house with his gun.”

At this, Edward’s expression relaxed, and Clara wished desperately that even after knowing him for months that she was able to smooth away the fear of hurting her. But could she, even in good consciousness?  _ Humans _ hurt each other all the time by complete accident, even those they loved, so it would be magnanimously harder for Edward to not hurt her, in all her mortal frailty. She understood where he was coming from, even if she didn’t agree - Edward would never hurt her, if only because he would have thought of every bad outcome and prepared for them. 

“What should I dress for? You still haven’t told me what we’re doing,” Clara reminded him, hoping to draw the conversation away from his darker thoughts.

It worked, slightly, a smirk flowing onto his face like water as his eyes lit up in delight. “Hiking. Dress for hiking.”

Clara smiled widely at that. “Gotch’a. Can I ask what you’ll be hunting?”

“Whatever we find in the park,” he smiled and shrugged.

Clara mock-gasped. “Innocent little bunnies? Oh no!” And then she burst into giggles, her mood brightening the longer she talked.

It was then that they had arrived at the school, or maybe they’d been there longer and Clara had simply been too drawn into Edward and their conversation for her to notice. Sighing, she unlaced their fingers and began to unbuckle and slide out of the Volvo. They were late, it seemed, the parking lot full of cars but empty of students. 

Edward walked her to her French, arm over her shoulder, the two silent the entire way. 

Madame was not happy to see her slipping out from under his arm and into the classroom as Edward disappeared towards his own class. “Tu as en retard, Clara.”

“Desolée, Madame,” Clara apologized, not even the slightest bit sorry.

As Madame sighed ruefully at her, Clara went to sit with Mike in the back like usual. He looked equally unhappy about Edward and happy to see her that she simply rolled her eyes and sunk into familiar conversation topics that lined the lives of students who didn’t make friends and romantic interests in vampires. 

Computer Applications couldn’t come fast enough, she decided as she delved into worksheets on the subjunctive verb tense with narrowed eyes. 

As class progressed, Mike whispered to her near-silently. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo, do you think Jess would hate it?”

Clara paused, pressing the eraser end of her pencil to her lips, humming in thought. “Depends, really, on what it is and her mood. What are you thinking of getting?”

“I’m thinking an anchor,” he said with a grin that showed her that he wasn’t just ‘thinking’ it; this was the culmination of many hours of thought. “Right below my left collar bone.”

Clara nodded in acceptance, already able to imagine it. When she had been a simply 12-year-old Molly, tattoos had fascinated her with a passion unrivaled by anything but Harry Potter. She had researched it with a fervor. Somehow, the anchor (what most people would think a cliché) fit Mike in a very definite way.

“I think it’ll look pretty good, have you got any design ideas?” She thought, mind whirring.

He nodded, and drew on the edge of his paper, a very minimalistic anchor. “Yeah, this. Anything more elaborate is supposed to hurt, right? But I’ve got a long time to think about it, I won’t be 18 for a bit.”

Clara’s brow furrowed, wondering when the teenage-craze of stick-n-poke tattoos would begin. Maybe it already had but hadn’t reached Forks? She had never given one to herself in this life, but her body had been littered with them in her last life. 

“I could give it to you,” she told him, and Mike jerked back in surprise. “We’d need to stop by a Hobby Lobby and CVS, but I could do it tonight.”

Mike simply stared at her for long time, even as she started to think about the placement, size, and the amount of ink she’d use for it. The ink would cost a bit, so she’d need to charge him, and it’d be a bit painful, take a few hours, but she could do it.

“Yeah, sure,” Mike drew her out of her thoughts, a determined set on his face. “Do you want me to pay you?”

“Thirty bucks should be enough,” she told him with a grin. “You’ll have to buy some of the stuff you’ll be keeping, though. We can go to Port Angeles right after school to get the stuff and go to your house? Or mine?”

Mike nodded. “My parents won’t be back until at least ten in the evening.”

“It’s a plan, then,” Clara smiled.

Her conversation with Billy was a far away thought now.

 

* * *

 

Edward was waiting for her at their table, both of their computers already up and running; she didn’t question how the vampire knew her password. Even a human could figure it out with some thought.

There was a question on her mind, though, sparked by an interest two-lifetimes long and a conversation with Mike. 

“Do tattoos bother you?” The question popped out of her mouth the moment she sat down. “Like, does it smell like blood or ink or both? Is it bad, like would you have trouble being near someone who recently got a tattoo?”

Edward stared at her like she had grown a second head or a third eye -  _ oh yes, that is a tattoo I want. _ “Where did this come from?”

Clara smiled widely. “Giving Mike a tattoo later, might do some on myself.”  _ Will definitely be doing some on myself _ , she corrected to herself.

His brow furrowed. “Yourself? That’s not safe, Clara.”  
She rolled her eyes at her boyfriend. “I know it’s not the safest, but I’ve done it before, you know, _before_ -before. I know the drill.”

Edward got the hint, thankfully, and nodded slowly, but his eyes were still worried. “Well, tattoos smell like any small wound, but with more ink to them. You’re sure you’re going to be doing your own?”

Clara nodded, already thinking of a few she wanted. Her body was a blank canvas and she was an artist ready to do her job; she had the experience from her last life to know which ones she would avoid this time, too. But then her brow creased, a thought coming to her mind.

“Will you have trouble with it? Should I wait until we don’t have a date coming up?” she asked, worried that he might not think his control well enough.

He shook his head, slowly and thoughtful. “No, you’ll be fine. Alice and I will just find some bigger game to hunt tonight.”

Clara nodded, relieved; she really wanted to do her tattoos tonight. “Alright, good. That’s all I needed to know.”

Edward regarded her thoughtfully. “What will you be getting?”

She grinned widely at him. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, babe.”  
While her boyfriend chuckled at the pet name, she turned to see what was on the board for the class to do today.

Throughout the class period, Edward continued to needle her about her upcoming ink, and she rebuked every single one. She talked a bit about her last life and how she had been a tattoo-enthusiast even then and how she had been considering going to Art School instead of getting a degree in math for teaching when she had died. 

This bit of information started an entirely different conversation as they delved into her past interests and dreams for the future that had been shut off by death and rebirth. Edward seemed surprised by her wanting to be a math teacher, but she waxed poetic about her favorite math teacher whose enthusiasm for the subject and habit of turning everything into a fun time encouraged her interest in it until she had been really considering it.

 

* * *

 

The day passed quickly then, lunch a blur of giggles and puns and stories exchanged over a half-eaten lunch tray until Edward and Alice had to leave. Her introduction to her shorter, undead classmate was kept simple and sweet. Alice seemed incredibly happy to meet her, though. Clara told Edward to have fun, and went onto her next class. 

She asked Jessica in a roundabout way about her opinions on tattoos, telling her simply that she was thinking of getting one herself when her birthday came along. Jessica found them good in moderation, and seemed to hold a bit of wariness and distaste for full-body tattoos, sleeves, and elaborate ones. 

After class ended for the day, Mike and she spending her entire gym period being subpar at badminton and whispering about their project, she and her new partner and crime practically ran for the hills together. Mike wasted a bit of time talking to Jessica and making up excuses as Clara snuck her way into his van. The last thing they needed was gossip about the two of them, though Clara was sure that her reputation as a tattoo-artist would make its way around town within the week if all went smoothly. 

She was almost excited about that, the idea that she was going to get paid for doing tattoos, even if they were for gossipy teenagers. The entire car ride was spent filling up two pieces of notebook paper with doodle ideas for her new tattoos. Mike would occasionally look over her shoulder and make appreciative noises about her doodles.

“Which ones are you going to do?” he asked as they drove through Port Angeles looking for Hobby Lobby.

“This one,” she pointed to the doodle of two closed eyes and an open third eye, “This cactus, this planet, the spaceships, the fancy triangle, and the feather.”

“Seven?” Mike whistled, eyes wide. “That’s gonna  _ hurt _ .”

“Yup, but I can do it. I’ll have to go over all the tattoos in two weeks to make sure they’re good, though, so we need to keep them under wraps until then, ‘kay?” She narrowed her eyes at him sideways. “You can’t tell  _ anyone _ until they’re done - and make sure not to tell any adults. This is technically illegal.”

Mike held out his hand, pinkie finger out, “Promise.”

She hooked her finger with his and grinned. “Good. Oh! There’s Hobby Lobby, take this next left!”

Shopping was a series of giggles and running through the aisles with a shopping basket. She filled it up with nearly six large bottles of india ink, a lot of packaged needles, blue pens, pencils, and a large package of sewing thread. The total came out to be over a hundred dollars, but thankfully she kept the credit card her mother gave her last year on her. Her bank account had been untouched for years, so she had accumulated a lot of money in interest.

Mike gave the needles some wary looks, but didn’t comment.

Next was CVS, where they grabbed a bunch of what they would need. Anti-bacterial soap, wipes, paper towels, saran-wrap, unscented lotion, neosporin, latex-free gloves, razors, shaving cream, and lighters. Mike had been surprised about the lighters, but she explained that it was a secondary disinfectant. They’re sterilize the needles by putting them in boiling water, but it was better safe than sorry. 

The drive back was easier, surrounded by plastic bags full of things; Mike insisted on shelling out fifty bucks after seeing how much she had spent on supplies. 

Mike’s house was in a neighborhood, unlike her own, but it could only be called a neighborhood if two houses within a block of it could be called a neighborhood. His house was similar to hers, but with a basement and arranged oddly. The inside was warmly colored, with pictures along the walls of a family hiking and surfing and stuff. 

They set a pan on the stove with water in it and started boiling a single package of needles.

Mike’s bedroom was in the basement, the picture of a teenage boy’s room with posters on the walls and clothes everywhere and a slight smell of dirty socks to it. Blushing furiously, Mike had made her close her eyes, holding all of the bags, as he sped around the room trying to make it presentable. He shoved most of his clothes under his bed and made his bed and closed his closet door and sprayed some febreeze around the room. 

Clara grinned at it all, knowing that she could let her room get even messier than his. When Mike finished up, they settled out onto the floor to start. 

She grabbed his bedside table lamp, turning it on and setting it near him without the shade over it. “Alright, Mikey-boy, take your shirt off.”

Mike groaned, even as he did so, “Dang, Clara, if I knew this was just a ploy to see me naked…”

Clara smacked him on his bare chest, a stern look on her face. “Shut up, Newton, and let me get you ready for stabbing.”

Mike snorted, a grin on his face, as she looked at his chest. It wasn’t very hairy, but she took out a razor and the dry-shaving cream and made him shave the area that she’d be tattooing anyways. As he did so, she went to check on the needles, which were boiling; she turned the stove off, drained the pan and carried the needles down on a paper towel. 

It took Mike only a few minutes to shave, but she wanted to shave as well. As she shimmied off her pants, Mike blushed bright red and sputtered at her.

Clara rolled her eyes. “Mike, there’s nothing between us, and we’re both in relationships. Just think of me like a sister, alright?”

Mike wouldn’t look at her, even his nose red, voice high and pitched. “C-can you put on shorts at least?”

Clara snorted and went to his dresser and pulled out baggy basketball shorts to pull on. “I’m going to be taking off my shirt for some of mine, you know.”

Mike made a noise of frustration as the red crept down his neck. “Clara, please…”

Clara snorted, and patted his shoulder as she settled down next to him again. “You’ll be fine. It’s nothing I doubt you haven’t seen.”

She shaved her legs quickly, her arms next as she stripped her shirt off, leaving her in a blue, lacy bra. Mike stared, to which she sighed and snapped her fingers in front of his face. His eyes snapped up apologetically, but she understood and didn’t blame him. Her boobs were small in this life, but nicely shaped. She’d stare at them, too, even in a bra.

“Is this gonna hurt?” he asked as she wiped at his chest to clean up any dirt remaining there.

She tossed the wipe into a nearby trashcan, which was filled with...kleenex… “Like a pinch. It’ll hurt more because it’s near your bones, but you’ll be fine.”

She tied a needle to the eraser end of a pencil with thread, and before she covered the end of the needle, lit a flame under it for a few seconds. Mike watched nervously as she poured ink into the cap of a water bottle and came so near to him that she could feel the heat of his skin. She drew the outline of the anchor on his skin with a blue pen.

“Lay down, will you? This will be easier, then,” she told him, before putting the other end of the pencil in her mouth and pulling her into a bun on the top of her head. Mike was still blushing, but followed her instructions. She leaned over his chest, laying one hand on his skin to spread it taught. “Ready?”

“Ye...yeah,” he mumbled, and she glanced at him, only to find him staring at her with a indescribable look in his eyes. She wondered what he was thinking before turning back to his chest. Mike was weird.

And then she dipped the needle into the ink and stabbed the needle lightly into his skin. Mike hissed and shut his eyes tightly, making her chuckle.

“One down, many more to go,” she mumbled. “Last chance to back out.”

She felt like Edward, saying that. 

“No, no,” he whispered, not looking at her; his blush was gone, now. “Keep going.”

She nodded, “Alright.”

And then she  _ really _ began.

The simple tattoo took an hour and a half. As she washed it gently with warm water and the anti-bacterial soap, slathered it in neosporin, and tapped saran-wrap over it, she explained the aftercare.

“Saran wrap comes off after two hours, don’t mess with it, keep it clean, keep it out of the sun for at least three days,” she rattled off as he sat up and looked in a mirror. “You can put lotion on it after a week. In two weeks, we’ll check it to see if it needs a touch-up. Congratulations on your first tattoo, Mike.”

He stared at it with near-stars in his eyes. “Thanks, Clara. Really.”

“No problem, Mike,” her smile softened from informational to sincere. “Now, time for my own.”  
It was her tattoos that took the longest, Mike lounging close by as she stabbed into her skin repeatedly for hours. She’d changed needles and prepped her skin, so she wasn’t worried about any blood-born diseases transferring between the two. Mike eventually turned on his stereo to play music softly, which helped her get lost into the feel of ink on her skin.

They talked quietly, but mostly Mike just watched. She tattooed the cactus low on her hip, the triangle-within-a-triangle on her inner left ankle next to the alien spaceship, the rocketship on her opposite inner ankle, the planet below her left collarbone while looking closely in a mirror, they eyes right below her right boob, and the feather along the side of her middle finger on her left hand.

Covered in neosporin, ink, and some saran wrap, Clara redressed and relished in the throbbing pain of her body. It was nearing ten in the evening, so she knew she’d get home before Charlie with enough time to cook some frozen pizzas. Mike drove her home silently. 

She wondered if she had crossed a line, somehow, somewhere. But when Mike gave her a hug goodbye, and lightly said he wouldn’t mention her state of undress to Jessica, she knew she was good still. Clara grinned and wished him luck caring for his tattoo. 

The night went quickly after that, and soon she was climbing into bed, achey and happy. Tattoos were something she could control about her body, and it was always a thrill. God, she loved her ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story on hiatus until motivation and a laptop is gained.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, I love to hear feedback. Chapters come Wednesday and Friday, 10AM PST-USA time.


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